:•>* 


OCSB  LIBRARY 


THE  MASON-BEES 


THE  MASON-BEES 


BY 


J.   HENRI    FABRE 


TRANSLATED  BY 
ALEXANDER  TEIXEIRA  DE  MATTOS 

FELLOW  OF  TH1  ZOOLOGICAL  SOCIETY  OF  LONDON 


NEW  YORK 

DODD,  MEAD  AND  COMPANY 
1914 


Copyright,  1914 
By  DODD,  MEAD  AND  COMPANY 


CONTENTS 

PAGE 

TRANSLATOR'S  NOTE vii 

I  THE  MASON-BEES I 

II  EXPERIMENTS 30 

III  EXCHANGING  THE  NESTS     .        .        .56 

IV  MORE  ENQUIRIES  INTO  MASON-BEES      73 
V  THE  STORY  OF  MY  CATS        .        .        .109 

VI     THE  RED  ANTS 124 

VII     SOME   REFLECTIONS    UPON  INSECT 

PSYCHOLOGY 158 

VIII     PARASITES I9O 

IX     THE  THEORY  OF  PARASITISM      .        .217 

X     THE  TRIE  ULATIONS  OF  THE  MASON- 
BEE  250 

XI     THE  LEUCOSPES 277 

INDEX 311 


TRANSLATOR'S  NOTE 

THIS  volume  contains  all  the  essays  on  the 
Chalicodomae,  or  Mason-bees  proper, 
which  so  greatly  enhance  the  interest  of 
the  early  volumes  of  the  Souvenirs  ento- 
mologiques.  I  have  also  included  an  essay 
on  the  author's  Cats  and  one  on  Red  Ants 
— the  only  study  of  Ants  comprised  in  the 
Souvenirs — both  of  which  bear  upon  the  sense 
of  direction  possessed  by  the  Bees.  Those 
treating  of  the  Osmiae,  who  are  also  Mason- 
bees,  although  not  usually  known  by  that 
name,  will  be  found  in  a  separate  volume, 
which  I  have  called  Bramble  Bees  and  Others, 
and  in  which  I  have  collected  all  that  Fabre 
has  written  on  such  other  Wild  Bees  as  the 
Megachiles,  or  Leaf-cutters,  the  Cotton-bees, 
the  Resin-bees,  and  the  Halicti. 

The  essays  entitled  The  Mason-bees,  Ex- 
periments and  Exchanging  the  Nests  form  the 
last  three  chapters  of  Insect  Life,  translated 
by  the  author  of  Mademoiselle  Mori  and  pub- 
lished by  Messrs.  Macmillan,  who,  with  the 
greatest  courtesy  and  kindness  have  given  me 
their  permission  to  include  a  new  translation 
yii 


Translator's  Note 

of  these  chapters  in  the  present  volume. 
They  did  so  without  fee  or  consideration  of 
any  kind,  merely  on  my  representation  that 
it  would  be  a  great  pity  if  this  uniform  edi- 
tion of  Fabre's  Works  should  be  rendered 
incomplete  because  certain  essays  formed  part 
of  volumes  of  extracts  previously  published 
in  this  country.  Their  generosity  is  almost 
unparalleled  in  my  experience;  and  I  wish  to 
thank  them  publicly  for  it  in  the  name  of 
the  author,  of  the  French  publishers  and  of 
the  English  and  American  publishers,  as  well 
as  in  my  own. 

Some  of  the  chapters  have  appeared  in 
England  in  the  Daily  Mail,  the  Fortnightly 
Review  and  the  English  Review;  some  in 
America  in  Good  Housekeeping  and  the 
Youth's  Companion;  others  now  see  the  light 
in  English  for  the  first  time. 

I  have  again  to  thank  Miss  Frances  Rod- 
well  for  the  invaluable  assistance  which  she 
has  given  me  in  the  work  of  translation  and 
in  the  less  interesting  and  more  tedious  de- 
partment of  research. 

ALEXANDER  TEIXEIRA  DE  MATTOS. 
Chelsea,  1914. 

viii 


CHAPTER  I 

THE   MASON-BEES 

REAUMUR1  devoted  one  of  his  papers  to 
the  story  of  the  Chalicodoma  of  the 
Walls,  whom  he  calls  the  Mason-bee.  I 
propose  to  go  on  with  the  story,  to  complete 
it  and  especially  to  consider  it  from  a  point 
of  view  wholly  neglected  by  that  eminent 
observer.  And,  first  of  all,  I  am  tempted  to 
tell  how  I  made  this  Bee's  acquaintance. 

It  was  when  I  first  began  to  teach,  about 
1843.  I  had  left  the  normal  school  at 
Vaucluse,  some  months  before,  with  my 
diploma  and  all  the  simple  enthusiasm  of  my 
eighteen  years,  and  had  been  sent  to  Car- 
pentras,  there  to  manage  the  primary  school 
attached  to  the  college.  It  was  a  strange 
school,  upon  my  word,  notwithstanding  its 
pompous  title  of  "upper;"  a  sort  of  huge 
cellar  oozing  with  the  perpetual  damp  en- 

1Rene  Antoine  Ferchault  de  Reaumur  (1683-1757), 
inventor  of  the  Reaumur  thermometer  and  author  of 
Memoires  pour  servir  a  I'histoire  naturelle  des  insectes. 
— Translator's  Note. 


The  Mason-bees 

gendered  by  a  well  backing  on  it  in  the  street 
outside.  For  light  there  was  the  open  door, 
when  the  weather  permitted,  and  a  narrow 
prison-window,  with  iron  bars  and  lozenge 
panes  set  in  lead.  By  way  of  benches  there 
was  a  plank  fastened  to  the  wall  all  round  the 
room,  while  in  the  middle  was  a  chair  bereft 
of  its  straw,  a  black-board  and  a  stick  of 
chalk. 

Morning  and  evening,  at  the  sound  of  the 
bell,  there  came  rushing  in  some  fifty  young 
imps,  who,  having  shown  themselves  hopeless 
dunces  with  their  Cornelius  Nepos,  had  been 
relegated,  in  the  phrase  of  the  day,  to  "a 
few  good  years  of  French."  Those  who  had 
found  mensa  too  much  for  them  came  to  me 
to  get  a  smattering  of  grammar.  Children 
and  strapping  lads  were  there,  mixed  up  to- 
gether, at  very  different  educational  stages, 
but  all  incorrigibly  agreed  to  play  tricks 
upon  the  master,  the  boy  master  who  was  no 
older  than  some  of  them,  or  even  younger. 

To  the  little  ones  I  gave  their  first  lessons 
in  reading;  the  intermediate  ones  I  showed 
how  they  should  hold  their  pen  to  write  a 
few  lines  of  dictation  on  their  knees;  to  the 
big  ones  I  revealed  the  secrets  of  fractions 


The  Mason-bees 

and.  even  the  mysteries  of  Euclid.  And  to 
keep  this  restless  crowd  in  order,  to  give  each 
mind  work  in  accordance  with  its  strength,  to 
keep  attention  aroused  and  lastly  to  expel  dul- 
ness  from  the  gloomy  room,  whose  walls 
dripped  melancholy  even  more  than  damp- 
ness, my  one  resource  was  my  tongue,  my  one 
weapon  my  stick  of  chalk. 

For  that  matter,  there  was  the  same  con- 
tempt in  the  other  classes  for  all  that  was 
not  Latin  or  Greek.  One  instance  will  be 
enough  to  show  how  things  then  stood  with 
the  teaching  of  physics,  the  science  which 
occupies  so  large  a  place  to-day.  The  prin- 
cipal of  the  college  was  a  first-rate  man,  the 
worthy  Abbe  X.,  who,  not  caring  to  dispense 
beans  and  bacon  himself,  had  left  the  com- 
missariat-department to  one  of  his  relatives 
and  had  undertaken  instead  to  teach  the  boys 
physics. 

Let  us  attend  one  of  his  lessons.  The  sub- 
ject is  the  barometer.  The  establishment 
happens  to  possess  one,  an  old  apparatus, 
covered  with  dust,  hanging  on  the  wall  be- 
yond the  reach  of  profane  hands  and  bearing 
on  its  face,  in  large  letters,  the  words  stormy, 
rain,  fair. 


The  Mason-bees 

"The  barometer,"  says  the  good  abbe, 
addressing  his  pupils,  whom,  in  patriarchal 
fashion,  he  calls  by  their  Christian  names, 
"the  barometer  tells  us  if  the  weather  will  be 
good  or  bad.  You  see  the  words  written  on 
the  face — stormy,  rain — do  you  see,  Bas- 
tien?" 

"Yes,  I  see,"  says  Bastien,  the  most  mis- 
chievous of  the  lot. 

He  has  been  looking  through  his  book  and 
knows  more  about  the  barometer  than  his 
teacher  does. 

"It  consists,"  the  ,abbe  continues,  "of  a 
bent  glass  tube  filled  with  mercury,  which 
rises  and  falls  according  to  the  weather.  The 
shorter  leg  of  this  tube  is  open;  the  other 
.  .  .  the  other  .  .  .  well,  we'll  see. 
Here,  Bastien,  you're  the  tallest,  get  up  on 
the  chair  and  just  feel  with  your  finger  if  the 
long  leg  is  open  or  closed.  I  can't  remember 
for  certain." 

Bastien  climbs  on  the  chair,  stands  as  high 
as  he  can  on  tip-toe  and  fumbles  with  his 
finger  at  the  top  of  the  long  column.  Then, 
with  a  discreet  smile  spreading  under  the 
silky  hairs  of  his  dawning  moustache: 

"Yes,"  he  says,  "that's  it.  The  long  leg 
4 


The  Mason-bees 

is  open  at  the  top.  There,  I  can  feel  the 
hole." 

And  Bastien,  to  confirm  his  mendacious 
statement,  keeps  wriggling  his  forefinger  at 
the  top  of  the  tube,  while  his  fellow-conspira- 
tors suppress  their  enjoyment  as  best  they 
can. 

"That  will  do,"  says  the  unconscious  abbe. 
"You  can  get  down,  Bastien.  Take  a  note 
of  it,  boys :  the  longer  leg  of  the  barometer  is 
open;  take  a  note  of  it.  It's  a  thing  you 
might  forget;  I  had  forgotten  it  myself." 

Thus  was  physics  taught.  Things  im- 
proved, however :  a  master  came  and  came  to 
stay,  one  who  knew  that  the  long  leg  of  the 
barometer  is  closed.  I  myself  secured  tables 
on  which  my  pupils  were  able  to  write  instead 
of  scribbling  on  their  knees;  and,  as  my  class 
was  daily  increasing  in  numbers,  it  ended  by 
being  divided  into  two.  As  soon  as  I  had  an 
assistant  to  look  after  the  younger  boys, 
things  assumed  a  different  aspect. 

Among  the  subjects  taught,  one  in  particu- 
lar appealed  to  both  master  and  pupils.  This 
was  open-air  geometry,  practical  surveying. 
The  college  had  none  of  the  necessary  outfit; 
but,  with  my  fat  pay — seven  hundred  francs 
5 


The  Mason-bees 

a  year,  if  you  please! — I  could  not  hesitate 
over  the  expense.  A  surveyor's  chain  and 
stakes,  arrows,  level,  square  and  compass 
were  bought  with  my  money.  A  microscopic 
graphometer,  not  much  larger  than  the  palm 
of  one's  hand  and  costing  perhaps  five  francs, 
was  provided  by  the  establishment.  There 
was  no  tripod  to  it;  and  I  had  one  made.  In 
short,  my  equipment  was  complete. 

And  so,  when  May  came,  once  every  week 
we  left  the  gloomy  school-room  for  the  fields. 
It  was  a  regular  holiday.  The  boys  disputed 
for  the  honour  of  carrying  the  stakes,  divided 
into  bundles  of  three;  and  more  than  one 
shoulder,  as  we  walked  through  the  town, 
felt  the  reflected  glory  of  those  erudite  rods. 
I  myself — why  conceal  the  fact? — was  not 
without  a  certain  satisfaction  as  I  piously  car- 
ried that  most  delicate  and  precious  appa- 
ratus, the  historic  five-franc  graphometer. 
The  scene  of  operations  was  an  unfilled, 
flinty  plain,  a  harmas,1  as  we  call  it  in  the  dis- 
trict. Here,  no  curtain  of  green  hedges  or 
shrubs  prevented  me  from  keeping  an  eye 

*Cf.  The  Life  of  the  Fly,  by  J.  Henri  Fabre,  trans- 
lated by  Alexander  Teixeira  de  Mattos:  chap.  i. — Trans- 
lator's Note. 

6 


The  Mason-bees 

upon  my  staff;  here — an  indispensable  condi- 
tion— I  had  not  the  irresistible  temptation  of 
the  unripe  apricots  to  fear  for  my  scholars. 
The  plain  stretched  far  and  wide,  covered 
with  nothing  but  flowering  thyme  and 
rounded  pebbles.  There  was  ample  scope 
for  every  imaginable  polygon;  trapezes  and 
triangles  could  be  combined  in  all  sorts  of 
ways.  The  inaccessible  distances  had  ample 
elbow-room ;  and  there  was  even  an  old  ruin, 
once  a  pigeon-house,  that  lent  its  perpendicu- 
lar to  the  graphometer's  performances. 

Well,  from  the  very  first  day,  my  atten- 
tion was  attracted  by  something  suspicious. 
If  I  sent  one  of  the  boys  to  plant  a  stake,  I 
would  see  him  stop  frequently  on  his  way, 
bend  down,  stand  up  again,  look  about  and 
stoop  once  more,  neglecting  his  straight  line 
and  his  signals.  Another,  who  was  told  to 
pick  up  the  arrows,  would  forget  the  iron  pin 
and  take  up  a  pebble  instead;  and  a  third, 
deaf  to  the  measurements  of  angles,  would 
crumble  a  clod  of  earth  between  his  fingers. 
Most  of  them  were  caught  licking  a  bit  of 
straw.  The  polygon  came  to  a  full  stop,  the 
diagonals  suffered.  What  could  the  mystery 
be? 


The  Mason-bees 

I  enquired;  and  everything  was  explained. 
A  born  searcher  and  observer,  the  scholar 
had  long  known  what  the  master  had  not  yet 
heard  of,  namely,  that  there  was  a  big  black 
Bee  who  made  clay  nests  on  the  pebbles  in  the 
harmas.  These  nests  contained  honey;  and 
my  surveyors  used  to  open  them  and  empty 
the  cells  with  a  straw.  The  honey,  although 
rather  strong-flavoured,  was  most  acceptable. 
I  acquired  a  taste  for  it  myself  and  joined 
the  nest-hunters,  putting  off  the  polygon  till 
later.  It  was  thus  that  I  first  saw  Reaumur's 
Mason-bee,  knowing  nothing  of  her  history 
and,  for  that  matter,  knowing  nothing  of  her 
historian. 

The  magnificent  Bee  herself,  with  her 
dark-violet  wings  and  black-velvet  raiment, 
her  rustic  edifices  on  the  sun-blistered  pebbles 
amid  the  thyme,  her  honey,  providing  a  di- 
version from  the  severities  of  the  compass 
and  the  square,  all  made  a  great  impression 
on  my  mind ;  and  I  wanted  to  know  more  than 
I  had  learned  from  the  schoolboys,  which  was 
just  how  to  rob  the  cells  of  their  honey  with 
a  straw.  As  it  happened,  my  bookseller  had 
a  gorgeous  work  on  insects  for  sale.  It  was 
called  Histoire  naturelle  des  anlmaux  articu- 


The  Mason-bees 

Us,  by  de  Castelnau,1  E.  Blanchard2  and 
Lucas,3  and  boasted  a  multitude  of  most  at- 
tractive illustrations;  but  the  price  of  it,  the 
price  of  it!  No  matter;  was  not  my  splendid 
income  supposed  to  cover  everything,  food 
for  the  mind  as  well  as  food  for  the  body? 
Anything  extra  that  I  gave  to  the  one  I  could 
save  upon  the  other:  a  method  of  balancing 
painfully  familiar  to  those  who  look  to  science 
for  their  livelihood.  The  purchase  was  ef- 
fected. That  day  my  professional  emolu- 
ments were  severely  strained:  I  devoted  a 
month's  salary  to  the  acquisition  of  the  book. 
I  had  to  resort  to  miracles  of  economy  for 
some  time  to  come  before  making  up  the 
enormous  deficit. 

The  book  was  devoured ;  there  is  no  other 
word  for  it.  In  it,  I  learned  the  name  of  my 
black  Bee;  I  read  for  the  first  time  various 
details  of  the  habits  of  insects;  I  found,  sur- 
rounded in  my  eyes  with  a  sort  of  halo,  the 

Brands  Comte  de  Castelnau  de  la  Porte  (1812-1880), 
the  naturalist  and  traveller.  Castelnau  was  born  in  Lon- 
don and  died  at  Melbourne. — Translator's  Note. 

2Emile  Blanchard  (b.  1820),  author  of  various 
works  on  insects,  Spiders,  etc. — Translator's  Note. 

3Pierre  Hippolyte  Lucas  (b.  1815),  author  of  works 
on  Moths  and  Butterflies,  Crustaceans,  etc. — Translator's 
Note. 


The  Mason-bees 

revered  names  of  Reaumur,  Huber1  and  Leon 
Dufour;2  and,  while  I  turned  over  the  pages 
for  the  hundredth  time,  a  voice  within  me 
seemed  to  whisper : 

"You  also  shall  be  of  their  company!" 
Ah,  fond  illusions,  what  has  come  of  you  ?3 
But  let  us  banish  these  recollections,  at  once 
sweet  and  sad,  and  speak  of  the  doings  of  our 
black  Bee.  Chalicodoma,  meaning  a  house 
of  pebbles,  concrete  or  mortar,  would  be 
a  most  satisfactory  title,  were  it  not  that 
it  has  an  odd  sound  to  any  one  un- 
familiar with  Greek.  The  name  is  given 
to  Bees  who  build  their  cells  with  mate- 
rials similar  to  those  which  we  employ 
for  our  own  dwellings.  The  work  of  these 


1Frangois  Huber  (1750-1831),  the  Swiss  naturalist, 
author  of  Nouvelles  observations  sur  les  abeilles.  He 
early  became  blind  from  excessive  study  and  conducted 
his  scientific  work  thereafter  with  the  aid  of  his  wife. — 
Translator's  Note, 

2Jean  Marie  Leon  Dufour  (1780-1865),  an  army  sur- 
geon who  served  with  distinction  in  several  campaigns 
and  subsequently  practised  as  a  doctor  in  the  Landes, 
where  he  attained  great  eminence  as  a  naturalist.  Fabre 
often  refers  to  him  as  the  Wizard  of  the  Landes.  Cf. 
The  Life  of  the  Spider,  by  J.  Henri  Fabre,  translated 
by  Alexander  Teixeira  de  Mattos:  chap,  i;  and  The  Life 
of  the  Fly:  chap.  i. — Translator's  Note. 

3The  present  essay  is  one  of  the  earliest  in  the  Souve- 
nirs Entomolooiques. — Translator's  Note. 
10 


The  Mason-bees 

insects  is  masonry;  only  it  is  turned  out  by  a 
rustic  mason  more  used  to  hard  clay  than  to 
hewn  stone.  Reaumur,  who  knew  nothing 
of  scientific  classification — a  fact  which  makes 
many  of  his  papers  very  difficult  to  under- 
stand— named  the  worker  after  her  work  and 
called  our  builders  in  dried  clay  Mason-bees, 
which  describes  them  exactly. 

We  have  two  of  them  in  our  district:  the 
Chalicodoma  of  the  Walls  (Chalicodoma 
muraria],  whose  history  Reaumur  gives  us 
in  a  masterly  fashion ;  and  the  Sicilian  Chali- 
codoma (C.  sicula}?  who  is  not  peculiar  to 
the  land  of  Etna,  as  her  name  might  suggest, 
but  is  also  found  in  Greece,  in  Algeria  and  in 
the  south  of  France,  particularly  in  the  de- 
partment of  Vaucluse,  where  she  is  one  of  the 
commonest  Bees  to  be  seen  in  the  month  of 
May.  In  the  former  species,  the  two  sexes 
are  so  unlike  in  colouring  that  a  novice,  sur- 
prised at  observing  them  come  out  of  the  same 
nest,  would  at  first  take  them  for  strangers  to 

1For  reasons  that  will  become  apparent  after  the 
reader  has  learnt  their  habits,  the  author  also  speaks 
of  the  Mason-bee  of  the  Walls  and  the  Sicilian  Mason- 
bee  as  the  Mason-bee  of  the  Pebbles  and  the  Mason-bee 
of  the  Sheds  respectively.  Cf.  Chapter  IV.,  footnote. — 
Translator's  Note. 

II 


The  Mason-bees 

each  other.  The  female  is  of  a  splendid  vel- 
vety black,  with  dark-violet  wings.  In  the 
male,  the  black  velvet  is  replaced  by  a  rather 
bright  brick-red  fleece.  The  second  species, 
which  is  much  smaller,  does  not  show  this 
contrast  of  colour:  the  two  sexes  wear  the 
same  costume,  a  general  mixture  of  brown, 
red  and  grey,  while  the  tips  of  the  wings, 
washed  with  violet  on  a  bronzed  ground,  re- 
call, but  only  faintly,  the  rich  purple  of  the 
former  species.  Both  begin  their  labours  at 
the  same  period,  in  the  early  part  of  May. 

As  Reaumur  tells  us,  the  Chalicodoma  of 
the  Walls  in  the  northern  provinces  selects  a 
wall  directly  facing  the  sun  and  one  not  cov- 
ered with  plaster,  which  might  come  off  and 
imperil  the  future  of  the  cells.  She  confides 
her  buildings  only  to  solid  foundations,  such 
as  bare  stone.  I  find  her  equally  prudent  in 
the  south;  but,  for  some  reason  which  I  do 
not  know,  she  here  generally  prefers  some 
other  base  to  the  stone  of  a  wall.  A  rounded 
pebble,  often  hardly  larger  than  one's  fist, 
one  of  those  cobbles  with  which  the  waters  of 
the  glacial  period  covered  the  terraces  of  the 
Rhone  Valley,  forms  the  most  popular  sup- 
port. The  extreme  abundance  of  these  sites 


The  Mason-bees 

might  easily  influence  the  Bee's  choice:  all 
our  less  elevated  uplands,  all  our  arid  thyme- 
clad  grounds  are  nothing  but  water-worn 
stones  cemented  with  red  earth.  In  the  val- 
leys, the  Chalicodoma  has  also  the  pebbles 
of  the  mountain-streams  at  her  disposal. 
Near  Orange,  for  instance,  her  favourite 
spots  are  the  alluvia  of  the  Aygues,  with  their 
carpets  of  smooth  pebbles  no  longer  visited 
by  the  waters.  Lastly,  if  a  cobble  be  want- 
ing, the  Mason-bee  will  establish  her  nest  on 
any  sort  of  stone,  on  a  mile-stone  or  a 
boundary-wall. 

The  Sicilian  Chalicodoma  has  an  even 
greater  variety  of  choice.  Her  most  cher- 
ished site  is  the  lower  surface  of  the  project- 
ing tiles  of  a  roof.  There  is  not  a  cottage  in 
the  fields,  however  small,  but  shelters  her 
nests  under  the  eaves.  Here,  each  spring, 
she  settles  in  populous  colonies,  whose  ma- 
sonry, handed  down  from  one  generation  to 
the  next  and  enlarged  year  by  year,  ends  by 
covering  considerable  surfaces.  I  have  seen 
some  of  these  nests,  under  the  tiles  of  a  shed, 
spreading  over  an  area  of  five  or  six  square 
yards.  When  the  colony  was  hard  at  work, 
the  busy,  buzzing  crowd  was  enough  to  make 
13 


The  Mason-bees 

one  giddy.  The  under  side  of  a  balcony  also 
pleases  the  Mason-bee,  as  does  the  embrasure 
of  a  disused  window,  especially  if  it  is  closed 
by  a  blind  whose  slats  allow  her  a  free  pas- 
sage. But  these  are  popular  resorts,  where 
hundreds  and  thousands  of  workers  labour, 
each  for  herself.  If  she  be  alone,  which  hap- 
pens pretty  often,  the  Sicilian  Mason-bee  in- 
stals  herself  in  the  first  little  nook  handy,  pro- 
vided that  it  supplies  a  solid  foundation  and 
warmth.  As  for  the  nature  of  this  founda- 
tion, she  does  not  seem  to  mind.  I  have  seen 
her  build  on  the  bare  stone,  on  bricks,  on  the 
wood  of  a  shutter  and  even  on  the  window- 
panes  of  a  shed.  One  thing  only  does  not 
suit  her:  the  plaster  of  our  houses.  She  is 
as  prudent  as  her  kinswoman  and  would  fear 
the  ruin  of  her  cells,  if  she  entrusted  them  to 
a  support  which  might  possibly  fall. 

Lastly,  for  reasons  which  I  am  still  unable 
to  explain  to  my  own  satisfaction,  the -Sicilian 
Mason-bee  often  changes  the  position  of  her 
building  entirely,  turning  her  heavy  house  of 
clay,  which  would  seem  to  require  the  solid 
support  of  a  rock,  into  an  aerial  dwelling.  A 
hedge-shrub  of  any  kind  whatever — haw- 
thorn, pomegranate,  Christ's-thorn  —  pro- 


The  Mason-bees 

vides  her  with  a  foundation,  usually  as  high 
as  a  man's  head.  The  holm-oak  and  the  elm 
give  her  a  greater  altitude.  She  chooses  in 
the  bushy  clump  a  twig  no  thicker  than  a 
straw ;  and  on  this  narrow  base  she  constructs 
her  edifice  with  the  same  mortar  that  she 
would  employ  under  a  balcony  or  the  ledge  of 
a  roof.  When  finished,  the  nest  is  a  ball  of 
earth,  bisected  by  the  twig.  It  is  the  size  of 
an  apricot  when  the  work  of  a  single  insect 
and  of  one's  fist  if  several  have  collaborated; 
but  this  latter  case  is  rare. 

Both  Bees  use  the  same  materials:  calca- 
reous clay,  mingled  with  a  little  sand  and 
kneaded  into  a  paste  with  the  mason's  own 
saliva.  Damp  places,  which  would  facilitate 
the  quarrying  and  reduce  the  expenditure  of 
saliva  for  mixing  the  mortar,  are  scorned  by 
the  Mason-bees,  who  refuse  fresh  earth  for 
building  even  as  our  own  builders  refuse  plas- 
ter and  lime  that  have  long  lost  their  settling- 
properties.  These  materials,  when  soaked 
with  pure  moisture,  would  not  hold  properly. 
What  is  wanted  is  a  dry  dust,  which 
greedily  absorbs  the  disgorged  saliva  and 
forms  with  the  latter's  albuminous  elements 
a  sort  of  readily-hardening  Roman  cement, 
15 


The  Mason-bees 

something  in   short,    resembling  the  cement 
which  we  obtain  with  quicklime  and  white  of 

egg- 

The  mortar-quarry  which  the  Sicilian 
Mason-bee  prefers  to  work  is  a  frequented 
highway,  whose  metal  of  chalky  flints, 
crushed  by  the  passing  wheels,  has  become  a 
smooth  surface,  like  a  continuous  flagstone. 
Whether  settling  on  a  twig  in  a  hedge  or  fix- 
ing her  abode  under  the  eaves  of  some  rural 
dwelling,  she  always  goes  for  her  building- 
materials  to  the  nearest  path  or  road,  with- 
out allowing  herself  to  be  distracted  from 
her  business  by  the  constant  traffic  of  people 
and  cattle.  You  should  see  the  active  Bee  at 
work  when  the  road  is  dazzling  white  under 
the  rays  of  a  hot  sun.  Between  the  adjoin- 
ing farm,  which  is  the  building-yard,  and  the 
road,  in  which  the  mortar  is  prepared,  we 
hear  the  deep  hum  of  the  Bees  perpetually 
crossing  one  another  as  they  go  to  and  fro. 
The  air  seems  traversed  by  incessant  trails 
of  smoke,  so  straight  and  rapid  is  the  work- 
er's flight.  Those  on  the  way  to  the  nest 
carry  tiny  pellets  of  mortar,  the  size  of  small 
shot;  those  who  return  at  once  settle  on  the 
driest  and  hardest  spots.  Their  whole  body 
16 


The  Mason-bees 

aquiver,  they  scrape  with  the  tips  of  their 
mandibles  and  rake  with  their  front  tarsi  to 
extract  atoms  of  earth  and  grains  of  sand, 
which,  rolled  between  their  teeth,  become 
impregnated  with  saliva  and  form  a  solid 
mass.  The  work  is  pursued  so  vigorously 
that  the  worker  lets  herself  be  crushed  under 
the  feet  of  the  passers-by  rather  than  abandon 
her  task. 

On  the  other  hand,  the  Mason-bee  of  the 
Walls,  who  seeks  solitude,  far  from  human 
habitations,  rarely  shows  herself  on  the  beaten 
paths,  perhaps  because  these  are  too  far  from 
the  places  where  she  builds.  So  long  as  she 
can  find  dry  earth,  rich  in  small  gravel,  near 
the  pebble  chosen  as  the  site  of  her  nest,  that 
is  all  she  asks. 

The  Bee  may  either  build  an  entirely  new 
nest  on  a  site  as  yet  unoccupied,  or  she  may 
use  the  cells  of  an  old  nest,  after  repairing 
them.  Let  us  consider  the  former  case  first. 
After  selecting  her  pebble,  the  Mason-bee  of 
the  Walls  arrives  with  a  little  ball  of  mortar 
in  her  mandibles  and  lays  it  in  a  circular  pad 
on  the  surface  of  the  stone.  The  forelegs 
and  above  all  the  mandibles,  which  are  the 
mason's  chief  tools,  work  the  material,  which 
17 


The  Mason-bees 

is  kept  plastic  by  the  salivary  fluid  as  this  is 
gradually  disgorged.  In  order  to  consolidate 
the  clay,  angular  bits  of  gravel,  the  size  of  a 
lentil,  are  inserted  separately,  but  only  on  the 
outside,  in  the  as  yet  soft  mass.  This  is  the 
foundation  of  the  structure.  Fresh  layers 
follow,  until  the  cell  has  attained  the  desired 
height  of  two  or  three  centimetres.1 

Man's  masonry  is  formed  of  stones  laid  one 
above  the  other  and  cemented  together  with 
lime.  The  Chalicodoma's  work  can  bear 
comparison  with  ours.  To  economize  la- 
bour and  mortar,  the  Bee  employs  coarse  ma- 
terials, big  pieces  of  gravel,  which  to  her 
represent  hewn  stones.  She  chooses  them 
carefully  one  by  one,  picks  out  the  hardest 
bits,  generally  with  corners,  which,  fitting  one 
into  the  other,  give  mutual  support  and  con- 
tribute to  the  solidity  of  the  whole.  Layers 
of  mortar,  sparingly  applied,  hold  them  to- 
gether. The  outside  of  the  cell  thus  assumes 
the  appearance  of  a  piece  of  rustic  architect- 
ure, in  which  the  stones  project  with  their 
natural  irregularities;  but  the  inside,  which 
requires  a  more  even  surface  in  order  not  to 

1Three-quarters  of  an  inch  to  one  inch. — Translator's 
Note. 

18 


The  Mason-bees 

hurt  the  larva's  tender  skin,  is  covered  with 
a  coat  of  pure  mortar.  This  inner  whitewash, 
however,  is  put  on  without  any  attempt  at 
art,  indeed,  one  might  say  that  it  is  ladled  on 
in  great  splashes;  and  the  grub  takes  care, 
after  finishing  its  mess  of  honey,  to  make  it- 
self a  cocoon  and  hang  the  rude  walls  of  its 
abode  with  silk.  On  the  other  hand,  the  An- 
thophoras  and  the  Halicti,  two  species  of 
Wild  Bees  whose  grubs  weave  no  cocoon, 
delicately  glaze  the  inside  of  their  earthen 
cells  and  give  them  the  gloss  of  polished 
ivory. 

The  structure,  whose  axis  is  nearly  always 
vertical  and  whose  orifice  faces  upwards  so  as 
not  to  let  the  honey  escape,  varies  a  little  in 
shape  according  to  the  supporting  base. 
When  set  on  a  horizontal  surface,  it  rises  like 
a  little  oval  tower;  when  fixed  against  an  up- 
right or  slanting  surface,  it  resembles  the  half 
of  a  thimble  divided  from  top  to  bottom.  In 
this  case,  the  support  itself,  the  pebble,  com- 
pletes the  outer  wall. 

When  the  cell  is  finished,  the  Bee  at  once 

sets  to  work  to  victual  it.    The  flowers  round 

about,  especially  those  of  the  yellow  broom 

(Genista  scoparia) ,  which  in  May  deck  the 

19 


The  Mason-bees 

pebbly  borders  of  the  mountain  streams  with 
gold,  supply  her  with  sugary  liquid  and  pol- 
len. She  comes  with  her  crop  swollen  with 
honey  and  her  belly  yellowed  underneath  with 
pollen-dust.  She  dives  head  first  into  the 
cell;  and  for  a  few  moments  you  see  some 
spasmodic  jerks  which  show  that  she  is  dis- 
gorging the  honey-syrup.  After  emptying  her 
crop,  she  comes  out  of  the  cell,  only  to  go  in 
again  at  once,  but  this  time  backwards.  The 
Bee  now  brushes  the  lower  side  of  her  ab- 
domen with  her  two  hindlegs  and  rids  her- 
self of  her  load  of  pollen.  Once  more  she 
comes  out  and  once  more  goes  in  head  first. 
It  is  a  question  of  stirring  the  materials,  with 
her  mandibles  for  a  spoon,  and  making  the 
whole  into  a  homogeneous  mixture.  This 
mixing-operation  is  not  repeated  after  every 
journey:  it  takes  place  only  at  long  intervals, 
when  a  considerable  quantity  of  material  has 
been  accumulated. 

The  victualling  is  complete  when  the  cell 
is  half  full.  An  egg  must  now  be  laid  on  the 
top  of  the  paste  and  the  house  must  be  closed. 
All  this  is  done  without  delay.  The  cover 
consists  of  a  lid  of  pure  mortar,  which  the 
Bee  builds  by  degrees,  working  from  the  cir- 


The  Mason-bees 

cumference  to  the  centre.  Two  days  at  most 
appeared  to  me  to  be  enough  for  everything, 
provided  that  no  bad  weather — rain  or 
merely  clouds — came  to  interrupt  the  labour. 
Then  a  second  cell  is  built,  backing  on  the 
first  and  provisioned  in  the  same  manner.  A 
third,  a  fourth  and  so  on  follow,  each  sup- 
plied with  honey  and  an  egg  and  closed  be- 
fore the  foundations  of  the  next  are  laid. 
Each  task  begun  is  continued  until  it  is  quite 
finished ;  the  Bee  never  commences  a  new  cell 
until  the  four  processes  needed  for  the  con- 
struction of  its  predecessor  are  completed: 
the  building,  the  victualling,  the  laying  of  the 
egg  and  the  closing  of  the  cell. 

As  the  Mason-bee  of  the  Walls  always 
works  by  herself  on  the  pebble  which  she  has 
chosen  and  even  shows  herself  very  jealous 
of  her  site  when  her  neighbours  alight  upon 
it,  the  number  of  cells  set  back  to  back  upon 
one  pebble  is  not  large,  usually  varying  be- 
tween six  and  ten.  Do  some  eight  grubs 
represent  the  Bee's  whole  family?  Or  does 
she  afterward  go  and  establish  a  more  numer- 
ous progeny  on  other  boulders?  The  surface 
of  the  same  stone  is  spacious  enough  to  pro- 
vide a  support  for  further  cells  if  the  num- 


The  Mason-bees 

her  of  eggs  called  for  them;  the  Bee  could 
build  there  very  comfortably,  without  hunt- 
ing for  another  site,  without  leaving  the  peb- 
ble to  which  she  is  attached  by  habit  and 
long  acquaintance.  It  seems  to  me,  therefore, 
exceedingly  probable  that  the  family  is  a 
small  one  and  that  it  is  all  installed  on  the  one 
boulder,  at  any  rate  when  the  Mason-bee  is 
building  a  new  home. 

The  six  to  ten  cells  composing  the  cluster 
are  certainly  a  solid  dwelling,  with  their  rus- 
tic gravel  covering;  but  the  thickness  of  their 
walls  and  lids,  two  millimetres1  at  most,  seems 
hardly  sufficient  to  protect  the  grubs  against 
the  inclemencies  of  the  weather.  Set  on  its 
stone  in  the  open  air,  without  any  sort  of 
shelter,  the  nest  will  have  to  undergo  the  heat 
of  summe'r,  which  will  turn  each  cell  into  a 
stifling  furnace,  followed  by  the  autumn 
rains,  which  will  slowly  wear  away  the  stone- 
work, and  by  the  winter  frosts,  which  will 
crumble  what  the  rains  have  respected.  How- 
ever hard  the  cement  may  be,  can  it  possibly 
resist  all  these  agents  of  destruction?  And, 
even  if  it  does  resist,  will  not  the  grubs, 

i.ojg  inch. — Translator's  Note. 
22 


The  Mason-bees 

tered  by  too  thin  a  wall,  have  to  suffer  from 
excess  of  heat  in  summer  and  of  cold  in  win- 
ter? 

Without  arguing  all  this  out,  the  Bee  nev- 
ertheless acts  wisely.  When  all  the  cells  are 
finished,  she  builds  a  thick  cover  over  the 
group,  formed  of  a  material,  impermeable  to 
water  and  a  bad  conductor  of  heat,  which  acts 
as  a  protection  at  the  same  time  against 
damp,  heat  and  cold.  This  material  is  the 
usual  mortar,  made  of  earth  mixed  with 
saliva,  but  on  this  occasion  with  no  small 
stones  in  it.  The  Bee  applies  it  pellet  by  pel- 
let, trowelful  by  trowelful,  to  the  depth  of  a 
centimetre1  over  the  cluster  of  cells,  which 
disappear  entirely  under  the  clay  covering. 
When  this  is  done,  the  nest  has  the  shape  of 
a  rough  dome,  equal  in  size  to  half  an  orange. 
One  would  take  it  for  a  round  lump  of  mud 
which  had  been  thrown  and  half  crushed 
against  a  stone  and  had  then  dried  where  it 
was.  Nothing  outside  betrays  the  contents, 
no  semblance  of  cells,  no  semblance  of  work. 
To  the  inexperienced  eye,  it  is  a  chance  splash 
of  mud  and  nothing  more. 

*.39  inch. — Translator's  Note. 
23 


The  Mason-bees 

This  outer  covering  dries  as  quickly  as  do 
our  hydraulic  cements;  and  the  nest  is  now 
almost  as  hard  as  a  stone.  It  takes  a  knife 
with  a  strong  blade  to  break  open  the  edifice. 
And  I  would  add,  in  conclusion,  that,  under 
its  final  form,  the  nest  in  no  way  recalls  the 
original  work,  so  much  so  that  one  would 
imagine  the  cells  of  the  outset,  those  elegant 
turrets  covered  with  stuccowork,  and  the 
dome  of  the  finish,  looking  like  a  mere  lump 
of  mud,  to  be  the  product  of  two  different 
species.  But  scrape  away  the  crust  of  cement 
and  we  shall  easily  recognize  the  cells  below 
and  their  layers  of  tiny  pebbles. 

Instead  of  building  a  brand-new  nest,  on 
a  hitherto  unoccupied  boulder,  the  Mason- 
bee  of  the  Walls  is  always  glad  to  make  use 
of  the  old  nests  which  have  lasted  through  the 
year  without  suffering  any  damage  worth 
mentioning.  The  mortar  dome  has  remained 
very  much  what  it  was  at  the  beginning, 
thanks  to  the  solidity  of  the  masonry,  only  it 
is  perforated  with  a  number  of  round  holes, 
corresponding  with  the  chambers,  the  cells 
inhabited  by  past  generations  of  larvae. 
Dwellings  such  as  these,  which  need  only  a 
little  repair  to  put  them  in  good  condition, 


The  Mason-bees 

save  a  great  deal  of  time  and  trouble;  and 
the  Mason-bees  look  out  for  them  and  do  not 
decide  to  build  new  nests  except  when  the  old 
ones  are  wanting. 

From  one  and  the  same  dome  there  issue 
several  inhabitants,  brothers  and  sisters,  ruddy 
males  and  black  females,  all  the  offspring  of 
the  same  Bee.  The  males  lead  a  careless  ex- 
istence, know  nothing  of  work  and  do  not  re- 
turn to  the  clay  houses  except  for  a  brief  mo- 
ment to  woo  the  ladies;  nor  do  they  reck  of 
the  deserted  cabin.  What  they  want  is  the 
nectar  in  the  flower-cups,  not  mortar  to  mix 
between  their  mandibles.  There  remain  the 
young  mothers,  who  alone  are  charged 
with  the  future  of  the  family.  To  which  of 
them  will  the  inheritance  of  the  old  nest  re- 
vert ?  As  sisters,  they  have  equal  rights  to  it : 
so  our  code  would  decide,  since  the  day  when 
it  shook  itself  free  of  the  old  savage  right  of 
primogeniture.  But  the  Mason-bees  have  not 
yet  got  beyond  the  primitive  basis  of 
property,  the  right  of  the  first  occupant. 

When,  therefore,  the  laying-time  is  at 
hand,  the  Bee  takes  possession  of  the  first  va- 
cant nest  that  suits  her  and  settles  there ;  and 
woe  to  any  sister  or  neighbour  who  shall 
25 


The  Mason-bees 

henceforth  dare  to  contest  her  ownership. 
Hot  pursuits  and  fierce  blows  will  soon  put 
the  newcomer  to  flight.  Of  the  various  cells 
that  yawn  like  so  many  wells  around  the 
dome,  only  one  is  needed  at  the  moment;  but 
the  Bee  rightly  calculates  that  the  others  will 
be  useful  presently  for  the  other  eggs;  and 
she  watches  them  all  with  jealous  vigilance  to 
drive  away  possible  visitors.  Indeed,  I  do  not 
remember  ever  seeing  two  masons  working 
on  the  same  pebble. 

The  task  is  now  very  simple.  The  Bee  ex- 
amines the  old  cell  to  see  what  parts  require 
repairing.  She  tears  off  the  strips  of  cocoon 
hanging  from  the  walls,  removes  the  frag- 
ments of  clay  that  fell  from  the  ceiling  when 
pierced  by  the  last  inhabitant  to  make  her 
exit,  gives  a  coat  of  mortar  to  the  dilapidated 
parts,  mends  the  opening  a  little;  and  that  is 
all.  Next  come  the  storing,  the  laying  of  the 
eggs  and  the  closing  of  the  chamber.  When 
all  the  cells,  one  after  the  other,  are  thus  fur- 
nished, the  outer  cover,  the  mortar  dome,  re- 
ceives a  few  repairs  if  it  needs  them ;  and  the 
thing  is  done. 

The  Sicilian  Mason-bee  prefers  company 
to  a  solitary  life  and  establishes  herself  in  her 
26 


The  Mason-bees 

hundreds,  very  often  in  many  thousands,  un- 
der the  tiles  of  a  shed  or  the  edge  of  a  roof. 
These  do  not  constitute  a  true  society,  with 
common  interests  to  which  all  attend,  but  a 
mere  gathering,  where  each  works  for  herself 
and  is  not  concerned  with  the  rest,  in  short, 
a  throng  of  workers  recalling  the  swarm  of  a 
hive  only  by  their  numbers  and  their  eager- 
ness. The  mortar  employed  is  the  same  as 
that  of  the  Mason-bee  of  the  Walls,  equally 
unyielding  and  waterproof,  but  thinner  and 
without  pebbles.  The  old  nests  are  used  first. 
Every  free  chamber  is  repaired,  stocked  and 
sealed  up.  But  the  old  cells  are  far  from 
sufficient  for  the  population,  which  increases 
rapidly  from  year  to  year.  Then,  on  the  sur- 
face of  the  nest,  whose  chambers  are  hidden 
under  the  old  general  mortar  covering,  new 
cells  are  built,  as  the  needs  of  the  laying-time 
call  for  them.  They  are  placed  horizontally, 
or  nearly  so,  side  by  side,  with  no  attempt  at 
orderly  arrangement.  Each  architect  has 
plenty  of  elbow-room  and  builds  as  and  where 
she  pleases,  on  the  one  condition  that  she 
does  not  hamper  her  neighbours'  work;  other- 
wise she  can  look  out  for  rough  handling 
from  the  parties  interested.  The  cells,  there- 
27 


The  Mason-bees 

fore,  accumulate  at  random  in  this  work-yard 
where  there  is  no  organization.  Their  shape 
is  that  of  a  thimble  divided  down  the  mid- 
dle; and  their  walls  are  completed  either  by 
the  adjoining  cells  or  by  the  surface  of  the  old 
nest.  Outside,  they  are  rough  and  display 
successive  layers  of  knotted  cords  correspond- 
ing with  the  different  courses  of  mortar.  In- 
side, the  walls  are  flat  without  being  smooth; 
later  on,  the  grub's  cocoon  will  make  up  for 
any  lack  of  polish. 

Each  cell,  as  built,  is  stocked  and  walled  up 
immediately,  as  we  have  seen  with  the 
Mason-bee  of  the  Walls.  This  work  goes  on 
throughout  the  best  part  of  May.  All  the 
eggs  are  laid  at  last;  and  then  the  Bees,  with- 
out drawing  distinctions  between  what  does 
and  what  does  not  belong  to  them,  set 
to  work  in  common  on  a  general  protection 
for  the  colony.  This  is  a  thick  coat  of  mor- 
tar, which  fills  up  the  gaps  and  covers  all  the 
cells.  In  the  end,  the  common  nest  presents 
the  appearance  of  a  wide  expanse  of  dry  mud, 
with  very  irregular  protuberances,  thicker  in 
the  middle,  the  original  nucleus  of  the  esta- 
blishment, thinner  at  the  edges,  where  as  yet 
there  are  only  newly-built  cells,  and  varying 


The  Mason-bees 

greatly  in  dimensions  according  to  the  num- 
ber of  workers  and  therefore  to  the  age  of  the 
nest  first  founded.  Some  of  these  nests  are 
hardly  larger  than  one's  hand,  while  others 
occupy  the  greater  part  of  the  projecting  edge 
of  a  roof  and  are  measured  by  square  yards. 
When  working  alone,  which  is  not  unusual, 
on  the  shutter  of  a  disused  window,  on  a  stone, 
or  on  a  twig  in  some  hedge,  the  Sicilian  Chali- 
codoma  behaves  in  just  the  same  way.  For 
instance,  should  she  settle  on  a  twig,  the  Bee 
begins  by  solidly  cementing  the  base  of  her 
cell  to  the  slight  foundation.  Next,  the 
building  rises,  taking  the  form  of  a  little  up- 
right turret.  This  first  cell,  when  victualled 
and  sealed,  is  followed  by  another,  having  as 
its  support,  in  addition  to  the  twig,  the  cells 
already  built.  From  six  to  ten  chambers  are 
thus  grouped  side  by  side.  Lastly,  one  coat 
of  mortar  covers  everything,  including  the 
twig  itself,  which  provides  a  firm  mainstay 
for  the  whole. 


CHAPTER  II 

EXPERIMENTS 

AS  THE  nests  of  the  Mason-bee  of  the 
Walls  are  erected  on  small-sized  peb- 
bles, which  can  be  easily  carried  wherever  you 
like  and  moved  about  from  one  place  to  an- 
other, without  disturbing  either  the  work  of 
the  builder  or  the  repose  of  the  occupants  of 
the  cells,  they  lend  themselves  readily  to  prac- 
tical experiment,  the  only  method  that  can 
throw  a  little  light  on  the  nature  of  instinct. 
To  study  the  insect's  mental  faculties  to  any 
purpose,  it  is  not  enough  for  the  observer  to 
be  able  to  profit  by  some  happy  combination 
of  circumstances:  he  must  know  how  to  pro- 
duce other  combinations,  vary  them  as  much 
as  possible  and  to  test  them  by  substitution 
and  interchange.  Lastly,  to  provide  science 
with  a  solid  basis  of  facts,  he  must  experi- 
ment. In  this  way,  the  evidence  of  formal 
records  will  one  day  dispel  the  fantastic  le- 
gends with  which  our  books  are  crowded :  the 
30 


Experiments 

Sacred  Beetle1  calling  on  his  comrades  to  lend 
a  helping  hand  in  dragging  his  pellet  out  of  a 
rut;  the  Sphex2  cutting  up  her  fly  so  as  to  be 
able  to  carry  him  despite  the  obstacle  of  the 
wind;  and  all  the  other  fallacies  which  are  the 
stock-in-trade  of  those  who  wish  to  see  in  the 
animal  world  what  is  not  really  there.  In 
this  way,  again,  materials  will  be  prepared 
which  will  one  day  be  worked  up  by  the  hand 
of  a  master  and  consign  hasty  and  unfounded 
theories  to  oblivion. 

Reaumur,  as  a  rule,  confines  himself  to 
stating  facts  as  he  sees  them  in  the  normal 
course  of  events  and  does  not  try  to  probe 
deeper  into  the  insect's  ingenuity  by  means  of 
artificially  produced  conditions.  In  his  time, 
everything  had  yet  to  be  done ;  and  the  har- 
vest was  so  great  that  the  illustrious  harvester 
went  straight  to  what  was  most  urgent,  the 
gathering  of  the  crop,  and  left  his  successors 

*A  Dung-beetle  who  rolls  the  manure  of  cattle  into 
balls  for  his  own  consumption  and  that  of  his  young. 
Cf.  Insect  Life,  by  J.  H.  Fabre,  translated  by  the  author 
of  Mademoiselle  Mori:  chaps,  i.  and  ii. ;  and  The  Life 
and  Love  of  the  Insect,  by  J.  Henri  Fabre,  translated 
by  Alexander  Teixeira  de  Mattos:  chaps,  i.  to  iv. — 
Translator's  Note. 

2A  species  of  Hunting  Wasp.  Cf.  Insect  Life:  chaps, 
vi.  and  xii. — Translator's  Note. 


The  Mason-bees 

to  examine  the  grain  and  the  ear  in  detail. 
Nevertheless,  in  connection  with  the  Chali- 
codoma  of  the  Walls,  he  mentions  an  experi- 
ment made  by  his  friend,  Duhamel.1  He  tells 
us  how  a  Mason-bee's  nest  was  enclosed  in  a 
glass  funnel,  the  mouth  of  which  was  cov- 
ered merely  with  a  bit  of  gauze.  From  it 
there  issued  three  males,  who,  after  vanquish- 
ing mortar  as  hard  as  stone,  either  never 
thought  of  piercing  the  flimsy  gauze  or  else 
deemed  the  work  beyond  their  strength.  The 
three  bees  died  under  the  funnel.  Reaumur 
adds  that  insects  generally  know  only  how  to 
do  what  they  have  to  do  in  the  ordinary 
course  of  nature. 

The  experiment  does  not  satisfy  me,  for 
two  reasons :  first,  to  ask  workers  equipped 
with  tools  for  cutting  clay  as  hard  as  granite 
to  cut  a  piece  of  gauze  does  not  strike  me  as 
a  happy  inspiration;  you  cannot  expect  a 
navvy's  pickaxe  to  do  the  same  work  as  a 
dressmaker's  scissors.  Secondly,  the  trans- 
parent glass  prison  seems  to  me  ill-chosen.  As 
soon  as  the  insect  has  made  a  passage  through 


1Henri  Louis  Duhamel  du  Monceau  (1700-1781),  a 
distinguished  writer  on  botany  and  agriculture. — Trans- 
lator's Note. 

32 


Experiments 

the  thickness  of  its  earthen  dome,  it  finds  it- 
self in  broad  daylight;  and  to  it  daylight 
means  the  final  deliverance,  means  liberty.  It 
strikes  against  an  invisible  obstacle,  the  glass; 
and  to  it  glass  is  nothing  at  all  and  yet  an 
obstruction.  On  the  far  side,  it  sees  free 
space,  bathed  in  sunshine.  It  wears  itself  out 
in  efforts  to  fly  there,  unable  to  understand 
the  futile  nature  of  its  attempts  against  that 
strange  barrier  which  it  cannot  see.  It  per- 
ishes, at  last,  of  exhaustion,  without,  in  its 
obstinacy,  giving  a  glance  at  the  gauze  closing 
the  conical  chimney.  I  must  devise  a  means 
of  renewing  the  experiment  under  better  con- 
ditions. 

The  obstacle  which  I  select  is  ordinary 
brown  paper,  stout  enough  to  keep  the  insect 
in  the  dark  and  thin  enough  not  to  offer  seri- 
ous resistance  to  the  prisoner's  efforts.  As 
there  is  a  great  difference,  in  so  far  as  the  ac- 
tual nature  of  the  barrier  is  concerned,  be- 
tween a  paper  partition  and  a  clay  ceiling,  let 
us  begin  by  enquiring  if  the  Mason-bee  of  the 
Walls  knows  how  or  rather  is  able  to  make 
her  way  through  one  of  these  partitions.  The 
mandibles  are  pickaxes  suitable  for  breaking 
through  hard  mortar:  are  they  also, scissors 

33 


The  Mason-bees 

capable  of  cutting  a  thin  membrane?     This 
is  the  point  to  look  into  first  of  all. 

In  February,  by  which  time  the  insect  is  in 
its  perfect  state,  I  take  a  certain  number  of 
cocoons,  without  damaging  them,  from  their 
cells  and  insert  them  each  in  a  separate  stump 
of  reed,  closed  at  one  end  by  the  natural  wall 
of  the  node  and  open  at  the  other.  These 
pieces  of  reed  represent  the  cells  of  the  nest. 
The  cocoons  are  introduced  with  the  insect's 
head  turned  toward  the  opening.  Lastly,  my 
artificial  cells  are  closed  in  different  ways. 
Some  receive  a  stopper  of  kneaded  clay, 
which,  when  dry,  will  correspond  in  thickness 
and  consistency  with  the  mortar  ceiling  of  the 
natural  nest.  Others  are  plugged  with  a 
cylinder  of  sorghum,  at  least  a  centimetre1 
thick;  and  the  remainder  with  a  disk  of  brown 
paper  solidly  fastened  by  the  edge.  All  these 
bits  of  reed  are  placed  side  by  side  in  a  box, 
standing  upright,  with  the  roof  of  my  mak- 
ing at  the  top.  The  insects,  therefore,  are 
in  the  exact  position  which  they  occupied  in 
the  nest.  To  open  a  passage,  they  must  do 
what  they  would  have  done  without  my  inter- 

*.39  inch. — Translator's  Note. 
34 


Experiments 

ference,  they  must  break  through  the  wall 
situated  above  their  heads.  I  shelter  the 
whole  under  a  wide  bell-glass  and  wait  for  the 
month  of  May,  the  period  of  the  deliverance. 
The  results  far  exceed  my  anticipations. 
The  clay  stopper,  the  work  of  my  fingers,  is 
perforated  with  a  round  hole,  differing  in  no 
wise  from  that  which  the  Mason-bee  contrives 
through  her  native  mortar  dome.  The  vege- 
table barrier,  new  to  my  prisoners,  namely, 
the  sorghum  cylinder,  also  opens  with  a  neat 
orifice,  which  might  have  been  the  work  of  a 
punch.  Lastly,  the  brown-paper  cover  allows 
the  Bee  to  make  her  exit  not  by  bursting 
through,  by  making  a  violent  rent,  but  once 
more  by  a  clearly-defined  round  hole.  My 
Bees  therefore  are  capable  of  a  task  for  which 
they  were  not  born ;  to  come  out  of  their  reed 
cells  they  do  what  probably  none  of  their  race 
did  before  them;  they  perforate  the  wall  of 
sorghum-pith,  they  make  a  hole  in  the  paper 
barrier,  just  as  they  would  have  pierced  their 
natural  clay  ceiling.  When  the  moment 
comes  to  free  themselves,  the  nature  of  the 
impediment  does  not  stop  them,  provided  that 
It  be  not  beyond  their  strength;  and  hence- 
forth the  argument  of  incapacity  cannot  be 
35 


The  Mason-bees 

raised  when  a  mere  paper  barrier  is  in  ques- 
tion. 

In  addition  to  the  cells  made  out  of  bits  of 
reed,  I  put  under  the  bell-glass,  at  the  same 
time,  two  nests  which  are  intact  and  still  rest- 
ing on  their  pebbles.  To  one  of  them  I  have 
attached  a  sheet  of  brown  paper  pressed  close 
against  the  mortar  dome.  In  order  to  come 
out,  the  insect  will  have  to  pierce  first  the 
dome  and  then  the  paper,  which  follows  with- 
out any  intervening  space.  Over  the  other, 
I  have  placed  a  little  brown-paper  cone, 
gummed  to  the  pebble.  There  is  here,  there- 
fore, as  in  the  first  case,  a  double  wall — a  clay 
partition  and  a  paper  partition — with  this  dif- 
ference, that  the  two  walls  do  not  come  im- 
mediately after  each  other,  but  are  separated 
by  an  empty  space  of  about  a  centimetre  at 
the  bottom,  increasing  as  the  cone  rises. 

The  results  of  these  two  experiments  are 
quite  different.  The  Bees  in  the  nest  to  which 
a  sheet  of  paper  was  tightly  stuck  come  out 
by  piercing  the  two  enclosures,  of  which  the 
outer  wall,  the  paper  wrapper,  is  perforated 
with  a  very  clean  round  hole,  as  we  have  al- 
ready seen  in  the  reed  cells  closed  with  a  lid 
of  the  same  material.  We  thus  become 
36 


Experiments 

aware,  for  the  second  time,  that,  when  the 
Mason-bee  is  stopped  by  a  paper  barrier,  the 
reason  is  not  her  incapacity  to  overcome  the 
obstacle.  On  the  other  hand,  the  occupants 
of  the  nest  covered  with  the  cone,  after  mak- 
ing their  way  through  the  earthen  dome,  find- 
ing the  sheet  of  paper  at  some  distance,  do 
not  even  try  to  perforate  this  obstacle,  which 
they  would  have  conquered  so  easily  had  it 
been  fastened  to  the  nest.  They  die  under  the 
cover  without  making  any  attempt  to  escape. 
Even  so  did  Reaumur's  Bees  perish  in  the 
glass  funnel,  where  their  liberty  depended 
only  upon  their  cutting  through  a  bit  of  gauze. 
This  fact  strikes  me  as  rich  in  inferences. 
What?  Here  are  sturdy  insects,  to  whom 
boring  through  granite  is  mere  play,  to  whom 
a  stopper  of  soft  wood  and  a  paper  partition 
are  walls  quite  easy  to  perforate  despite  the 
novelty  of  the  material;  and  yet  these  vigor- 
our  housebreakers  allow  themselves  to  perish 
stupidly  in  the  prison  of  a  paper  bag,  which 
they  could  have  torn  open  with  one  stroke  of 
their  mandibles  ?  They  are  capable  of  tearing 
it,  but  they  do  not  dream  of  doing  so  !  There 
can  be  only  one  explanation  of  this  suicidal 
inaction.  The  insect  is  well-endowed  with 
37 


The  Mason-bees 

tools  and  instinctive  faculties  for  accomplish- 
ing the  final  act  of  its  metamorphosis,  namely, 
the  act  of  emerging  from  the  cocoon  and  from 
the  cell.  Its  mandibles  provide  it  with  scis- 
sors, file,  pickaxe  and  lever  wherewith  to  cut, 
gnaw  through  and  demolish  either  its  cocoon 
and  its  mortar  enclosure  or  any  other  not  too 
obstinate  barrier  substituted  for  the  natural 
covering  of  the  nest.  Moreover — and  this  is 
an  important  proviso,  but  for  which  the  outfit 
would  be  useless — it  has,  I  will  not  say  the  will 
to  use  those  tools,  but  a  secret  stimulus  invi- 
ting it  to  employ  them.  When  the  hour  for 
the  emergence  arrives,  this  stimulus  is  aroused 
and  the  insect  sets  to  work  to  bore  a  passage. 
It  little  cares  in  this  case  whether  the  material 
to  be  pierced  be  the  natural  mortar,  sorghum- 
pith,  or  paper;  the  lid  that  holds  it  imprisoned 
does  not  resist  for  long.  Nor  even  does  it 
care  if  the  obstacle  be  increased  in  thickness 
and  a  paper  wall  be  added  outside  the  wall  of 
clay:  the  two  barriers,  with  no  interval  be- 
tween them,  form  but  one  to  the  Bee,  who 
passes  through  them  because  the  act  of  get- 
ting out  is  still  one  act  and  one  only.  With 
the  paper  cone,  whose  wall  is  a  little  way  off, 
the  conditions  are  changed,  though  the  total 


Experiments 

thickness  of  wall  is  really  the  same.  Once  out- 
side its  earthen  abode,  the  insect  has  done  all 
that  it  was  destined  to  do  in  order  to  release 
itself;  to  move  freely  on  the  mortar  dome 
represents  to  it  the  end  of  the  release,  the  end 
of  the  act  of  boring.  Around  the  nest  a  new 
barrier  appears,  the  wall  made  by  the  paper 
bag;  but,  in  order  to  pierce  this,  the  insect 
would  have  to  repeat  the  act  which  it  has  just 
accomplished,  the  act  which  it  is  not  intended 
to  perform  more  than  once  in  its  life;  it 
would,  in  short,  have  to  make  into  a  double 
act  that  which  by  nature  is  a  single  one;  and 
the  insect  cannot  do  this,  for  the  sole  reason 
that  it  has  not  the  wish  to.  The  Mason-bee 
perishes  for  lack  of  the  smallest  gleam  of  in- 
telligence. And  this  is  the  singular  intellect 
in  which  it  is  the  fashion  nowadays  to  see  a 
germ  of  human  reason !  The  fashion  will 
pass  and  the  facts  remain,  bringing  us  back 
to  the  good  old  notions  of  the  soul  and  its 
immortal  destinies. 

Reaumur  tells  us  how  his  friend,  Duhamel, 
having  seized  a  Mason-bee  with  a  forceps 
when  she  had  half  entered  the  cell,  head  fore- 
most, to  fill  it  with  pollen-paste,  carried  her 
to  a  closet  at  some  distance  from  the  spot 
39 


The  Mason-bees 

where  he  captured  her.  The  Bee  got  away 
from  him  in  this  closet  and  flew  out  through 
the  window.  Duhamel  made  straight  for  the 
nest.  The  mason  arrived  almost  as  soon  as 
he  did  and  renewed  her  work.  She  only 
seemed  a  little  wilder,  says  the  narrator,  in 
conclusion. 

Why  were  you  not  here  with  me,  revered 
master,  on  the  banks  of  the  Aygues,  which 
for  three-fourths  of  the  year  is  a  vast  expanse 
of  pebbles  and  a  mighty  torrent  when  it  rains? 
I  should  have  shown  you  something  infinitely 
better  than  the  fugitive  escaping  from  the 
forceps.  You  would  have  witnessed — and, 
in  so  doing,  would  have  shared  my  surprise 
— not  the  brief  flight  of  the  Mason  who,  car- 
ried to  the  nearest  room,  releases  herself  and 
forthwith  returns  to  her  nest  in  that  familiar 
neighbourhood,  but  long  journeys  through  un- 
known country.  You  would  have  seen  the 
Bee  whom  I  carried  to  a  great  distance  from 
her  home,  to  quite  unfamiliar  ground,  find 
her  way  back  with  a  geographical  sense 
of  which  the  Swallow,  the  Martin  and 
the  Carrier-pigeon  would  not  have  been 
ashamed;  and  you  would  have  asked  your- 
self, as  I  did,  what  incomprehensible  know- 
40 


Experiments 

ledge  of  the  local  map  guides  that  mother 
seeking  her  nest. 

To  come  to  facts:  it  is  a  matter  of  repeat- 
ing with  the  Mason-bee  of  the  Walls  my 
former  experiments  with  the  Cerceris-wasps,1 
of  carrying  the  insect,  in  the  dark,  a  long 
way  from  its  nest,  marking  it  and  then 
leaving  it  to  its  own  resources.  In  case  any 
one  should  wish  to  try  the  experiment  for  him- 
self, I  make  him  a  present  of  my  manner  of 
operation,  which  may  save  him  time  at  the 
outset.  The  insect  intended  for  a  long  jour- 
ney must  obviously  be  handled  with  certain 
precautions.  There  must  be  no  forceps  em- 
ployed, no  pincers,  which  might  maim  a  wing, 
strain  it  and  weaken  the  power  of  flight. 
While  the  Bee  is  in  her  cell,  absorbed  in  her 
work,  I  place  a  small  glass  test-tube  over  it. 
The  Mason,  when  she  flies  away,  rushes  into 
the  tube,  which  enables  me,  without  touching 
her,  to  transfer  her  at  once  into  a  screw  of 
paper.  This  I  quickly  close.  A  tin  box,  an 
ordinary  botanizing-case,  serves  to  convey  the 
prisoners,  each  in  her  separate  paper  bag. 

The  most  delicate  business,  that  of  mark- 
ing each  captive  before  setting  her  free,  is  left 

*Cf.  Insect  Life;  chap.  xix. — Translator's  Note. 
41 


The  Mason-bees 

to  be  done  on  the  spot  selected  for  the 
starting-point.  I  use  finely-powdered  chalk, 
steeped  in  a  strong  solution  of  gum  arabic. 
The  mixture,  applied  to  some  part  of  the  in- 
sect with  a  straw,  leaves  a  white  patch,  which 
soon  dries  and  adheres  to  the  fleece.  When 
a  particular  Mason-bee  has  to  be  marked  so 
as  to  distinguish  her  from  another  in  short 
experiments,  such  as  I  shall  describe  presently, 
I  confine  myself  to  touching  the  tip  of  the 
abdomen  with  my  straw  while  the  insect  is 
half  in  the  cell,  head  downwards.  The  slight 
touch  is  not  noticed  by  the  Bee,  who  continues 
her  work  quite  undisturbed;  but  the  mark  is 
not  very  deep  and  moreover  it  is  in  a  rather 
bad  place  for  any  prolonged  experiment,  for 
the  Bee  is  constantly  brushing  her  belly  to  de- 
tach the  pollen  and  is  sure  to  rub  it  off  sooner 
or  later.  I  therefore  make  another  one,  drop- 
ing  the  sticky  chalk  right  in  the  middle  of  the 
thorax,  between  the  wings. 

It  is  hardly  possible  to  wear  gloves  at  this 
work:  the  fingers  need  all  their  deftness  to 
take  up  the  restless  Bee  delicately  and  to  over- 
power her  without  rough  pressure.  It  is 
easily  seen  that,  though  the  job  may  yield  no 
other  profit,  you  are  at  least  sure  of  being 
42 


Experiments 

stung.  The  sting  can  be  avoided  with  a  little 
dexterity,  but  not  always.  You  have  to  put 
up  with  it.  In  any  case,  the  Mason-bee's  sting 
is  far  less  painful  than  that  of  the  Hive-bee. 
The  white  spot  is  dropped  on  the  thorax;  the 
mason  flies  off;  and  the  mark  dries  on  the 
journey. 

I  start  with  two  Mason-bees  of  the  Walls 
working  at  their  nests  on  the  pebbles  in  the 
alluvia  of  the  Aygues,  not  far  from  Serignan. 
I  carry  them  home  with  me  to  Orange,  where 
I  release  them  after  marking  them.  Accord- 
ing to  the  ordnance-survey  map,  the  distance 
is  about  two  and  a  half  miles  as  the  crow  flies. 
The  captives  are  set  at  liberty  in  the  evening, 
at  a  time  when  the  Bees  begin  to  leave  off 
work  for  the  day.  It  is  therefore  probable 
that  my  two  Bees  will  spend  their  night  in  the 
neighbourhood. 

Next  morning,  I  go  to  the  nests.  The 
weather  is  still  too  cool  and  the  works  are 
suspended.  When  the  dew  has  gone,  the 
masons  begin  work.  I  see  one,  but  without  a 
white  spot,  bringing  pollen  to  one  of  the  nests 
which  had  been  occupied  by  the  travellers 
whom  I  am  expecting.  She  is  a  stranger  who, 
finding  the  cell  whose  owner  I  myself  had 
43 


The  Mason-bees 

exiled  untenanted,  has  installed  herself  there 
and  made  "it  her  property,  not  knowing  that 
it  is  already  the  property  of  another.  She 
has  perhaps  been  victualling  it  since  yesterday 
evening.  Close  upon  ten  o'clock,  when  the 
heat  is  at  its  full,  the  mistress  of  the  house 
suddenly  arrives :  her  title-deeds  as  the  origi- 
nal occupant  are  inscribed  for  me  in  undenia- 
ble characters  on  her  thorax  white  with  chalk. 
Here  is  one  of  my  travellers  back. 

Over  waving  corn,  over  fields  all  pink  with 
sainfoin,  she  has  covered  the  two  miles  and  a 
half  and  here  she  is,  back  at  the  nest,  after 
foraging  on  the  way,  for  the  doughty  creature 
arrives  with  her  abdomen  yellow  with  pollen. 
To  come  home  again  from  the  verge  of  the 
horizon  is  wonderful  in  itself;  to  come  home 
with  a  well-filled  pollen-brush  is  superlative 
economy.  A  journey,  even  a  forced  journey, 
always  becomes  a  foraging  expedition. 

She  finds  the  stranger  in  the  nest. 

"What's  this?    I'll  teach  you  1" 

And  the  owner  falls  furiously  upon  the  in- 
truder, who  possibly  was  meaning  no  harm. 
A  hot  chase  in  mid-air  now  takes  place  be- 
tween the  two  masons.  From  time  to  time, 
they  hover  almost  without  movement,  face  to 
44 


Experiments 

face,  with  only  a  couple  of  inches  separating 
them,  and  here,  doubtless  measuring  forces 
with  their  eyes,  they  buzz  insults  at  each 
other.  Then  they  go  back  and  alight  on  the 
nest  in  dispute,  first  one,  then  the  other.  I  ex- 
pect to  see  them  come  to  blows,  to  make  them 
draw  their  stings.  But  my  hopes  are  disap- 
pointed: the  duties  of  maternity  speak  in  too 
imperious  a  voice  for  them  to  risk  their  lives 
and  wipe  out  the  insult  in  a  mortal  duel.  The 
whole  thing  is  confined  to  hostile  demonstra- 
tions and  a  few  insignificant  cuffs. 

Nevertheless,  the  real  proprietress  seems 
to  derive  double  courage  and  double  strength 
from  the  feeling  that  she  is  in  her  rights.  She 
takes  up  a  permanent  position  on  the  nest  and 
receives  the  other,  each  time  that  she  ventures 
to  approach,  with  an  angry  quiver  of  her 
wings,  an  unmistakable  sign  of  her  righteous 
indignation.  The  stranger,  at  last  discour- 
aged, retires  from  the  field.  Forthwith  the 
mason  resumes  her  work,  as  actively  as 
though  she  had  not  just  undergone  the  hard- 
ships of  a  long  journey. 

One  more  word  on  these  quarrels  about 
property.  It  is  not  unusual,  when  one  Mason- 
bee  is  away  on  an  expedition,  for  another, 

45 


The  Mason-bees 

some  homeless  vagabond,  to  call  at  the  nest, 
take  a  fancy  to  it  and  set  to  work  on  it,  some- 
times at  the  same  cell,  sometimes  at  the  next, 
if  there  are  several  vacant,  which  is  generally 
the  case  in  the  old  nests.  The  first  occupier, 
on  her  return,  never  fails  to  drive  away  the 
intruder,  who  always  ends  by  being  turned 
out,  so  keen  and  invincible  is  the  mistress' 
sense  of  ownership.  Reversing  the  savage 
Prussian  maxim,  "Might  is  right,"  among  the 
Mason-bees  right  is  might,  for  there  is  no 
other  explanation  of  the  invariable  retreat  of 
the  usurper,  whose  strength  is  not  a  whit  in- 
ferior to  that  of  the  real  owner.  If  she  is 
less  bold,  this  is  because  she  has  not  the  tre- 
mendous moral  support  of  knowing  herself  in 
the  right,  which  makes  itself  respected,  among 
equals,  even  in  the  brute  creation. 

The  second  of  my  travellers  does  not  reap- 
pear, either  on  the  day  when  the  first  arrived 
or  on  the  following  days.  I  decide  upon  an- 
other experiment,  on  this  occasion  with  five 
subjects.  The  starting-place  is  the  same;  and 
the  place  of  arrival,  the  distance,  the  time  of 
day,  all  remain  unchanged.  Of  the  five  with 
whom  I  experiment,  I  find  three  at  their  nests 
next  day;  the  two  others  are  missing. 
46 


Experiments 

It  is  therefore  fully  established  that  the 
Mason-bee  of  the  Walls,  carried  to  a  distance 
of  two  and  a  half  miles  and  released  at  a  place 
which  she  has  certainly  never  seen  before,  is 
able  to  return  to  the  nest.  But  why  do  first 
one  out  of  two  and  then  two  out  of  five  fail 
to  join  their  fellows  ?  What  one  can  do  cannot 
another  do  ?  Is  there  a  difference  in  the  faculty 
that  guides  them  over  unknown  ground? 
Or  is  it  not  rather  a  difference  in  flying- 
power?  I  remember  that  my  Bees  did  not  all 
start  off  with  the  same  vigour.  Some  were 
hardly  out  of  my  fingers  before  they  darted 
furiously  into  the  air,  where  I  at  once  lost 
sight  of  them,  whereas  the  others  came  drop- 
ping down  a  few  yards  away  from  me,  after  a 
short  flight.  The  latter,  it  seems  certain, 
must  have  suffered  on  the  journey,  perhaps 
from  the  heat  concentrated  in  the  furnace  of 
my  box.  Or  I  may  have  hurt  the  articulation 
of  the  wings  in  marking  them,  an  operation 
difficult  to  perform  when  you  are  guarding 
against  stings.  These  are  maimed,  feeble 
creatures,  who  will  linger  in  the  sainfoin-fields 
close  by,  and  not  the  powerful  aviators  re- 
quired by  the  journey. 

The  experiment  must  be  tried  again,  tak- 
47 


The  Mason-bees 

ing  count  only  of  the  Bees  who  start  off 
straight  from  between  my  fingers  with  a  clean, 
vigorous  flight.  The  waverers,  the  laggards 
who  stop  almost  at  once  on  some  bush  shall 
be  left  out  of  the  reckoning.  Moreover,  I 
will  do  my  best  to  estimate  the  time  taken  in 
returning  to  the  nest.  For  an  experiment  of 
this  kind,  I  need  plenty  of  subjects,  as  the 
weak  and  the  maimed,  of  whom  there  may  be 
many,  are  to  be  disregarded.  The  Mason- 
bee  of  the  Walls  is  unable  to  supply  me  with 
the  requisite  number :  there  are  not  enough  of 
her;  and  I  am  anxious  not  to  interfere  too 
much  with  the  little  Aygues-side  colony  for 
whom  I  have  other  experiments  in  view.  For- 
tunately, I  have  at  my  own  place,  under  the 
eaves  of  a  shed,  a  magnificent  nest  of  Chali- 
codoma  sicula  in  full  activity.  I  can  draw  to 
whatever  extent  I  please  on  the  populous  city. 
The  insect  is  small,  less  than  half  the  size  of 
C.  murana,  but  no  matter :  it  will  deserve  all 
the  more  credit  if  it  can  traverse  the  two  miles 
and  a  half  in  store  for  it  and  find  its  way  back 
to  the  nest.  I  take  forty  Bees,  isolating  them, 
as  usual,  in  screws  of  paper. 

In  order  to  reach  the  nest,  I  place  a  ladder 
against  the  wall :  it  will  be  used  by  my  daugk 
48 


Experiments 

ter  Aglae  and  will  enable  her  to  mark  the 
exact  moment  of  the  return  of  the  first  Bee. 
I  set  the  clock  on  the  mantelpiece  and  my 
watch  at  the  same  time  so  that  we  may  com- 
pare the  instant  of  departure  and  of  arrival. 
Things  being  thus  arranged,  I  carry  off  my 
forty  captives  and  go  to  the  identical  spot 
where  Chalicodoma  muraria  works,  in  the  peb- 
bly bed  of  the  Aygues.  The  trip  will  have  a 
double  object:  to  observe  Reaumur's  Mason 
and  to  set  the  Sicilian  Mason  at  liberty. 
The  latter,  herefore,  will  also  have  two  and 
a  half  miles  to  travel  home. 

At  last  my  prisoners  are  released,  all  of 
them  being  first  marked  with  a  big  white  dot 
in  the  middle  of  the  thorax. 

You  do  not  come  off  scot-free  when  hand- 
ling one  after  the  other  forty  wrathful  Bees, 
who  promptly  unsheathe  and  brandish  their 
poisoned  stings.  The  stab  is  but  too  often 
given  before  the  mark  is  made.  My  smarting 
fingers  make  movements  of  self-defence  which 
my  will  is  not  always  able  to  control.  I  take 
hold  with  greater  precaution  for  myself  than 
for  the  insect;  I  sometimes  squeeze  harder 
than  I  ought  to  if  I  am  to  spare  my  travellers. 
To  experiment  so  as  to  lift,  if  possible,  a  tiny 

49 


The  Mason-bees 

corner  of  the  veil  of  truth  is  a  fine  and  noble 
thing,  a  mighty  stimulant  in  the  face  of  dan- 
ger; but  still  one  may  be  excused  for  display- 
ing some  impatience  when  it  is  a  matter  of 
receiving  forty  stings  in  one's  fingers  at  one 
short  sitting.  If  any  man  should  reproach 
me  for  being  too  careless  with  my  thumbs,  I 
would  suggest  that  he  should  have  a  try:  he 
can  then  judge  for  himself  the  pleasures  of  the 
situation. 

To  cut  a  long  story  short,  either  through 
the  fatigue  of  the  journey,  or  through  my  fin- 
gers pressing  too  hard  and  perhaps  injuring 
some  articulations,  only  twenty  out  of  my 
forty  Bees  start  with  a  bold,  vigorous  flight. 
The  others,  unable  to  keep  their  balance, 
wander  about  on  the  nearest  bit  of  grass  or 
remain  on  the  osier-shoots  on  which  I  have 
placed  them,  refusing  to  fly  even  when  I  tickle 
them  with  a  straw.  These  weaklings,  these 
cripples,  these  incapables  injured  by  my  fin- 
gers must  be  struck  off  my  list.  Those  who 
started  with  an  unhesitating  flight  number 
about  twenty.  That  is  ample. 

At  the  actual  moment  of  departure,  there 
is  nothing  definite  about  the  direction  taken, 
none  of  that  straight  flight  to  the  nest  which 
So 


Experiments 

the  Cerceris-wasps  once  showed  me  in  similar 
circumstances.  As  soon  as  they  are  liberated, 
the  Mason-bees  flee  as  though  scared,  some  in 
one  direction,  some  in  exactly  the  opposite  di- 
rection. Nevertheless,  as  far  as  their  impetu- 
ous flight  allows,  I  seem  to  perceive  a  quick 
return  on  the  part  of  those  Bees  who  have 
started  flying  towards  a  point  opposite  to 
their  homes;  and  the  majority  appear  to  me  to 
be  making  for  those  blue  distances  where  their 
nest  lies.  I  leave  this  question  with  certain 
doubts  which  are  inevitable  in  the  case  of  in- 
sects which  I  cannot  follow  with  my  eyes  for 
more  than  twenty  yards. 

Hitherto,  the  operation  has  been  favoured 
by  calm  weather;  but  now  things  become  com- 
plicated. The  heat  is  stifling  and  the  sky 
becomes  stormy.  A  stiff  breeze  springs  up, 
blowing  from  the  south,  the  very  direction 
which  my  Bees  must  take  to  return  to  the  nest. 
Can  they  overcome  this  opposing  current  and 
cleave  the  aerial  torrent  with  their  wings? 
If  they  try,  they  will  have  to  fly  close  to  the 
ground,  as  I  now  see  the  Bees  do  who  con- 
tinue their  foraging;  but  soaring  to  lofty 
regions,  whence  they  can  obtain  a  clear  view 
of  the  country,  is,  so  it  seems  to  me,  pro- 
Si 


The  Mason-bees 

hibited.  I  am  therefore  very  apprehensive  as 
to  the  success  of  my  experiment  when  I  return 
to  Orange,  after  first  trying  to  steal  some 
fresh  secret  from  the  Aygues  Mason-bee  of 
the  Pebbles. 

I  have  scarcely  reached  the  house  before 
Aglae  greets  me,  her  cheeks  flushed  with  ex- 
citement : 

"Two !"  she  cries.  "Two  arrived  at  twenty 
minutes  to  three,  with  a  load  of  pollen  under 
their  bellies!" 

A  friend  of  mine  had  appeared  upon  the 
scene,  a  grave  man  of  the  law,  who  on  hearing 
what  was  happening,  had  neglected  code  and 
stamped  paper  and  insisted  upon  also  being 
present  at  the  arrival  of  my  carrier-pigeons. 
The  result  interested  him  more  than  his  case 
about  a  party-wall.  Under  a  tropical  sun,  in 
a  furnace  heat  reflected  from  the  wall  of  the 
shed,  every  five  minutes  he  climbed  the  ladder 
bare-headed,  with  no  other  protection  against 
sunstroke  than  his  thatch  of  thick,  grey  locks. 
Instead  of  the  one  observer  whom  I  had 
posted,  I  found  two  good  pairs  of  eyes  watch- 
ing the  Bees'  return. 

I  had  released  my  insects  at  about  two 
o'clock;  and  the  first  arrivals  returned  to  the 
52 


Experiments 

nest  at  twenty  minutes  to  three.  They  had 
therefore  taken  less  than  three-quarters  of  an 
hour  to  cover  the  two  miles  and  a  half,  a 
very  striking  result,  especially  when  we  re- 
member that  the  Bees  did  some  foraging  on 
the  road,  as  was  proved  by  their  bellies'  yel- 
low pollen,  and  that,  on  the  other  hand,  the 
travellers'  flight  must  have  been  hindered  by 
the  wind  blowing  against  them.  Three  more 
came  home  before  my  eyes,  each  with  her 
load  of  pollen,  an  outward  and  visible  sign  of 
the  work  done  on  the  journey.  As  it  was 
growing  late,  our  observations  had  to  cease. 
When  the  sun  goes  down,  the  Mason-bees 
leave  the  nest  and  take  refuge  somewhere  or 
other,  perhaps  under  the  tiles  of  the  roofs,  or 
in  little  corners  of  the  walls.  I  could  not 
reckon  on  the  arrival  of  the  others  before 
work  was  resumed,  in  the  full  sunshine. 

Next  day,  when  the  sun  recalled  the  scat- 
tered workers  to  the  nest,  I  took  a  fresh  cen- 
sus of  Bees  with  a  white  spot  on  the  thorax. 
My  success  exceeded  all  my  hopes :  I  counted 
fifteen,  fifteen  of  the  transported  prisoners  of 
the  day  before,  storing  their  cells  or  building 
as  though  nothing  out  of  the  way  had  hap- 
pened. The  weather  had  become  more  and 
S3 


The  Mason-bees 

more  threatening;  and  now  the  storm  burst 
and  was  followed  by  a  succession  of  rainy 
days  which  prevented  me  from  continuing. 

The  experiment  suffices  as  it  stands.  Of 
some  twenty  Bees  who  had  seemed  fit  to  make 
the  long  journey  when  I  released  them,  fifteen 
at  least  had  returned:  two  within  the  first 
hour,  three  in  the  course  of  the  evening  and 
the  rest  next  morning.  They  had  returned  in 
spite  of  having  the  wind  against  them  and — 
a  graver  difficulty  still — in  spite  of  being  un- 
acquainted with  the  locality  to  which  I  had 
transported  them.  There  is,  in  fact,  no  doubt 
that  they  were  setting  eyes  for  the  first  time 
on  those  osier-beds  of  the  Aygues  which  I  had 
selected  as  the  starting-point.  Never  would 
they  have  travelled  so  far  afield  of  their  own 
accord,  for  everything  that  they  want  for 
building  and  victualling  under  the  roof  of  my 
shed  is  within  easy  reach.  The  path  at  the 
foot  of  the  wall  supplies  the  mortar;  the 
flowery  meadows  surrounding  my  house  fur- 
nish nectar  and  pollen.  Economical  of  their 
time  as  they  are,  they  do  not  go  flying  two 
miles  and  a  half  in  search  of  what  abounds 
at  a  few  yards  from  the  nest.  Besides,  I  see 
them  daily  taking  their  building-materials 
54 


Experiments 

from  the  path  and  gathering  their  harvest  on 
the  wild  flowers,  especially  on  the  meadow 
sage.  To  all  appearance,  their  expeditions  do 
not  cover  more  than  a  radius  of  a  hundred 
yards  or  so.  Then  how  did  my  exiles  return  ? 
What  guided  them?  It  was  certainly  not 
memory,  but  some  special  faculty  which  we 
must  content  ourselves  with  recognizing  by  its 
astonishing  effects  without  pretending  to  ex- 
plain it,  so  greatly  does  it  transcend  our  own 
psychology. 


CHAPTER  III 

EXCHANGING  THE  NESTS 

LET  us  continue  our  series  of  tests  with 
the  Mason-bee  of  the  Walls.  Thanks  to 
its  position  on  a  pebble  which  we  can  move  at 
will,  the  nest  of  this  Bee  lends  itself  to  most 
interesting  experiments.  Here  is  the  first :  I 
shift  a  nest  from  its  place,  that  is  to  say,  I 
carry  the  pebble  which  serves  as  its  support 
to  a  spot  two  yards  away.  As  the  edifice  and 
its  base  form  but  one,  the  removal  is  per- 
formed without  the  smallest  disturbance  of  the 
cells.  I  lay  the  boulder  in  an  exposed  place 
where  it  is  well  in  view,  as  it  was  on  its 
original  site.  The  Bee  returning  from  her 
harvest  cannot  fail  to  see  it. 

In  a  few  minutes,  the  owner  arrives  and 
goes  straight  to  where  the  nest  stood.  She 
hovers  gracefully  over  the  vacant  site,  ex- 
amines and  alights  upon  the  exact  spot  where 
the  stone  used  to  lie.  Here  she  walks  about 
for  a  long  time,  making  persistent  searches; 
then  the  insect  takes  wing  and  flies  away  to 
56 


Exchanging  the  Nests 

some  distance.  Her  absence  is  of  short  dura- 
tion. Here  she  is  back  again.  The  search  is 
resumed,  walking  and  flying,  and  always  on 
the  site  which  the  nest  occupied  at  first.  A 
fresh  fit  of  exasperation,  that  is  to  say,  an 
abrupt  flight  across  the  osier-bed,  is  followed 
by  a  fresh  return  and  a  renewal  of  the  vain 
search,  always  upon  the  mark  left  by  the 
shifted  pebble.  These  sudden  departures, 
these  prompt  returns,  these  persevering  in- 
spections of  the  deserted  spot  go  on  for  a  long 
time,  a  very  long  time,  before  the  mason  is 
convinced  that  her  nest  is  gone.  She  has  cert- 
ainly seen  it,  has  seen  it  over  and  over  again 
in  its  new  position,  for  sometimes  she  has 
flown  only  a  few  inches  above  it ;  but  she  takes 
no  notice  of  it.  To  her,  it  is  not  her  nest,  but 
the  property  of  another  Bee. 

Often  the  experiment  ends  without  so  much 
as  a  single  visit  to  the  boulder  which  I  have 
moved  two  or  three  yards  away :  the  Bee  goes 
off  and  does  not  return.  If  the  distance  be 
less,  a  yard  for  instance,  the  mason  sooner  or 
later  alights  on  the  stone  which  supports  her 
abode.  She  inspects  the  cell  which  she  was 
building  or  provisioning  a  little  while  before, 
repeatedly  dips  her  head  into  it,  examines  the 
57 


The  Mason-bees 

surface  of  the  pebble  step  by  step  and,  after 
long  hesitations,  goes  and  resumes  her  search 
on  the  site  where  the  home  ought  to  be.  The 
nest  that  is  no  longer  in  its  natural  place  is 
definitely  abandoned,  even  though  it  be  but  a 
yard  away  from  the  original  spot.  Vainly 
does  the  Bee  settle  on  it  time  after  time :  she 
cannot  recognize  it  as  hers.  I  was  convinced 
of  this  on  finding  it,  several  days  after  the 
experiment,  in  just  the  same  condition  as  when 
I  moved  it.  The  open  cell  half-filled  with 
honey  was  still  open  and  was  surrendering  its 
contents  to  the  pillaging  Ants;  the  cell  that 
was  building  had  remained  unfinished,  with 
not  a  single  layer  added  to  it.  The  Bee, 
obviously,  may  have  returned  to  it;  but  she 
had  not  resumed  work  upon  it.  The  trans- 
planted dwelling  was  abandoned  for  good  and 
all. 

I  will  not  deduce  the  strange  paradox  that 
the  Mason-bee,  though  capable  of  finding  her 
nest  from  the  verge  of  the  horizon,  is  in- 
capable of  finding  it  at  a  yard's  distance:  I 
interpret  the  occurrence  as  meaning  something 
quite  different.  The  proper  inference  appears 
to  me  to  be  this :  the  Bee  retains  a  rooted  im- 
pression of  the  site  occupied  by  the  nest  and 


Exchanging  the  Nests 

returns  to  it  with  unwearying  persistence 
even  when  the  nest  is  gone.  But  she  has  only 
a  very  vague  notion  of  the  nest  itself.  She 
does  not  recognize  the  masonry  which  she  her- 
self has  erected  and  kneaded  with  her  saliva; 
she  does  not  know  the  pollen-paste  which  she 
herself  has  stored.  In  vain  she  inspects  her 
cell,  her  own  handiwork;  she  abandons  it,  re- 
fusing to  acknowledge  it  as  hers,  once  the  spot 
whereon  the  pebble  rests  is  changed. 

Insect  memory,  it  must  be  confessed,  is  a 
strange  one,  displaying  such  lucidity  in  its  gen- 
eral acquaintance  with  locality  and  such  limi- 
tations in  its  knowledge  of  the  dwelling.  I 
feel  inclined  to  call  it  topographical  instinct : 
it  grasps  the  map  of  the  country  and  not  the 
beloved  nest,  the  home  itself.  The  Bembex- 
wasps1  have  already  led  us  to  a  like  conclusion. 
When  the  nest  is  laid  open,  these  Wasps  be- 
come wholly  indifferent  to  the  family,  to  the 
grub  writhing  in  agony  in  the  sun.  They  do 
not  recognize  it.  What  they  do  recognize, 
what  they  seek  and  find  with  marvellous  pre- 
cision is  the  site  of  the  entrance-door  of  which 
nothing  at  all  is  left,  not  even  the  threshold. 

1Cf.  Insect  Life:  chaps,  xvi.  to  xix. — Translator's  Note. 
59 


The  Mason-bees 

If  any  doubts  remained  as  to  the  incapacity 
of  the  Mason-bee  of  the  Walls  to  know  her 
nest  other  than  by  the  place  which  the  pebble 
occupies  on  the  ground,  here  is  something  to 
remove  them :  for  the  nest  of  one  Mason-bee, 
I  substitute  that  of  another,  resembling  it  as 
closely  as  possible  in  respect  to  both  masonry 
and  storage.  This  exchange  and  those  of 
which  I  shall  speak  presently  are  of  course 
made  in  the  owner's  absence.  The  Bee  set- 
tles without  hesitation  in  this  nest  which  is 
not  here,  but  which  stands  where  the  other 
did.  If  she  was  building,  I  offer  her  a  cell  in 
process  of  building.  She  continues  the  ma- 
sonry with  the  same  care  and  the  same  zeal  as 
if  the  work  already  done  were  her  own  work. 
If  she  was  fetching  honey  and  pollen,  I  offer 
her  a  partly-provisioned  cell.  She  continues 
her  journeys,  with  honey  in  her  crop  and 
pollen  under  her  belly,  to  finish  filling  an- 
other's warehouse.  The  Bee,  therefore,  does 
not  suspect  the  exchange;  she  does  not 
distinguish  between  what  is  her  property  and 
what  is  not ;  she  imagines  that  she  is  still  work- 
ing at  the  cell  which  is  really  hers. 

After  leaving  her  for  a  certain  time  in  pos- 
session of  the  strange  nest,  I  give  her  back 
60 


Exchanging  the  Nests 

her  own.  This  fresh  change  passes  unper- 
ceived  by  the  Bee :  the  work  is  continued  in 
the  cell  restored  to  her  at  the  point  which  it 
had  reached  in  the  substituted  cell.  I  once 
more  replace  it  by  the  strange  nest ;  and  again 
the  insect  persists  in  continuing  its  labour. 
By  thus  constantly  interchanging  the  strange 
nest  and  the  proper  nest,  without  altering  the 
actual  site,  I  thoroughly  convinced  myself  of 
the  Bee's  inability  to  discriminate  between 
what  is  her  work  and  what  is  not.  Whether 
the  cell  belong  to  her  or  to  another,  she 
labours  at  it  with  equal  zest,  so  long  as  the 
basis  of  the  edifice,  the  pebble,  continues  to 
occupy  its  original  position. 

The  experiment  receives  an  added  interest 
if  we  employ  two  neighbouring  nests  the  work 
on  which  is  about  equally  advanced.  I  move 
each  to  where  the  other  stood.  They  are  not 
much  more  than  thirty  inches  apart.  In  spite 
of  their  being  so  near  to  each  other  that  it  is 
quite  possible  for  the  insects  to  see  both  homes 
at  once  and  to  choose  between  them,  each  Bee, 
on  arriving,  settles  immediately  on  the  sub- 
stituted nest  and  continues  her  work  there. 
Change  the  two  nests  as  often  as  you  please 
and  you  shall  see  the  two  Mason-bees  keep 
61 


The  Mason-bees 

to  the  site  which  they  selected  and  labour  in 
turn  now  at  their  own  cell  and  now  at  the 
other's. 

One  might  think  that  the  cause  of  this  con- 
fusion lies  in  a  close  resemblance  between  the 
two  nests,  for  at  the  start,  little  expecting  the 
results  which  I  was  to  obtain,  I  used  to  choose 
the  nests  which  I  interchanged  as  much  alike 
as  possible,  for  fear  of  disheartening  the 
Bees.  I  need  not  have  taken  this  precaution : 
I  was  giving  the  insect  credit  for  a  perspicacity 
which  it  does  not  possess.  Indeed,  I  now  take 
two  nests  which  are  extremely  unlike  each 
other,  the  only  point  of  resemblance  being 
that,  in  each  case,  the  toiler  finds  a  cell  in 
which  she  can  continue  the  work  which  she 
is  actually  doing.  The  first  is  an  old  nest 
whose  dome  is  perforated  with  eight  holes, 
the  apertures  of  the  cells  of  the  previous  gen- 
eration. One  of  these  cells  has  been  restored 
and  the  Bee  is  busy  storing  it.  The  second  is 
a  nest  of  recent  construction,  which  has  not 
received  its  mortar  dome  and  consists  of  a 
single  cell  with  its  stucco  covering.  Here, 
too,  the  insect  is  busy  hoarding  pollen-paste. 
No  two  nests  could  present  greater  differ- 
ences :  one  with  its  eight  empty  chambers  and 
62 


Exchanging  the  Nests 

its  spreading  clay  dome ;  the  other  with  its 
single  bare  cell,  at  most  the  size  of  an  acorn. 
Well,  the  two  Mason-bees  do  not  hesitate 
long  in  front  of  these  exchanged  nests,  not 
three  feet  away  from  each  other.  Each  makes 
for  the  site  of  her  late  home.  One,  the  original 
owner  of  the  old  nest,  finds  nothing  but  a 
solitary  cell.  She  rapidly  inspects  the  pebble 
and,  without  further  formalities,  first  plunges 
her  head  into  the  strange  cell,  to  disgorge 
honey,  and  then  her  abdomen,  to  deposit 
pollen.  And  this  is  not  an  action  due  to  the 
imperative  need  of  ridding  herself  as  quickly 
as  possible,  no  matter  where,  of  an  irksome 
load,  for  the  Bee  flies  off  and  soon  comes  back 
again  with  a  fresh  supply  of  provender,  which 
she  stores  away  carefully.  This  carrying  of 
provisions  to  another's  larder  is  repeated  as 
often  as  I  permit  it.  The  other  Bee,  finding 
instead  of  her  one  cell  a  roomy  structure  con- 
sisting of  eight  apartments,  is  at  first  not  a 
little  embarrassed.  Which  of  the  eight  cells 
is  the  right  one?  In  which  is  the  heap  of 
paste  on  which  she  had  begun  ?  The  Bee  there- 
fore visits  the  chambers  one  by  one,  dives 
right  down  to  the  bottom  and  ends  by  finding 
what  she  seeks,  that  is  to  say,  what  was  in 
63 


The  Mason-bees 

her  nest  when  she  started  on  her  last  jour- 
ney, the  nucleus  of  a  store  of  food.  Thence- 
forward she  behaves  like  her  neighbour  and 
goes  on  carrying  honey  and  pollen  to  the 
warehouse  which  is  not  of  her  making. 

Restore  the  nests  to  their  original  places, 
exchange  them  yet  once  again  and  both  Bees, 
after  a  short  hesitation  which  the  great  dif- 
ference between  the  two  nests  is  enough  to 
explain,  will  pursue  the  work  in  the  cell  of  her 
own  making  and  in  the  strange  cell  alternately. 
At  last  the  egg  is  laid  and  the  sanctuary 
closed,  no  matter  what  nest  happens  to  be 
occupied  at  the  moment  when  the  provision- 
ing reaches  completion.  These  incidents  are 
sufficient  to  show  why  I  hesitate  to  give  the 
name  of  memory  to  the  singular  faculty  that 
brings  the  insect  back  to  her  nest  with  such 
unerring  precision  and  yet  does  not  allow  her 
to  distinguish  her  work  from  some  one  else's, 
however  great  the  difference  may  be. 

We  will  now  experiment  with  Chalicodoma 
muraria  from  another  psychological  point  of 
view.  Here  is  a  Mason-bee  building;  she  is 
at  work  on  the  first  course  of  her  cell.  I 
give  her  in  exchange  a  cell  not  only  finished 
as  a  structure,  but  also  filled  nearly  to  the  top 
64 


Exchanging  the  Nests 

with  honey.  I  have  just  stolen  it  from  its 
owner,  who  would  not  have  been  long  before 
laying  her  egg  in  it.  What  will  the  mason 
do  in  the  presence  of  this  munificent  gift, 
which  saves  her  the  trouble  of  building  and 
harvesting?  She  will  leave  the  mortar,  no 
doubt,  finish  storing  the  Bee-bread,  lay  her 
egg  and  seal  up.  A  mistake,  an  utter  mis- 
take :  our  logic  is  not  the  logic  of  the  in- 
sect, which  obeys  an  inevitable,  unconscious 
prompting.  It  has  no  choice  as  to  what  it 
shall  do;  it  cannot  discriminate  between  what 
is  and  what  is  not  advisable;  it  glides,  as  it 
were,  down  an  irresistible  slope  prepared  be- 
forehand to  bring  it  to  a  definite  end.  This 
is  what  the  facts  that  still  remain  to  be  stated 
proclaim  with  no  uncertain  voice. 

The  Bee  who  was  building  and  to  whom  I 
offer  a  cell  ready-built  and  full  of  honey  does 
not  lay  aside  her  mortar  for  that.  She  was 
doing  Mason's  work;  and,  once  on  that  tack, 
guided  by  the  unconscious  impulse,  she  has  to 
keep  masoning,  even  though  her  labour  be 
useless,  superfluous  and  opposed  to  her  in- 
terests. The  cell  which  I  give  her  is  cer- 
tainly perfect,  looked  upon  as  a  building,  in 
the  opinion  of  the  master-builder  herself,  since 
65 


The  Mason-bees 

the  Bee  from  whom  I  took  it  was  completing 
the  provision  of  honey.  To  touch  it  up,  es- 
pecially to  add  to  it  is  useless  and,  what  is 
more,  absurd.  No  matter:  the  Bee  who  was 
masoning  will  mason.  On  the  aperture  of  the 
honey-store  she  lays  a  first  course  of  mortar, 
followed  by  another  and  yet  another,  until  at 
last  the  cell  is  a  third  taller  than  the  regulation 
height.  The  masonry-task  is  now  done,  not 
as  perfectly,  it  is  true,  as  if  the  Bee  had  gone 
on  with  the  cell  whose  foundations  she  was 
laying  at  the  moment  when  I  exchanged  the 
nests,  but  still  to  an  extent  which  is  more 
than  enough  to  prove  the  irresistible  impulse 
which  the  builder  obeys.  Next  comes  the 
victualling,  which  is  also  cut  short,  lest  the 
honey-store  swelled  by  the  joint  contributions 
of  the  two  Bees  should  overflow.  Thus  the 
Mason-bee  who  is  beginning  to  build  and  to 
whom  we  give  a  complete  cell,  a  cell  filled 
with  honey,  makes  no  change  in  the  order  of 
her  work:  she  builds  first  and  then  victuals. 
Only  she  shortens  her  work,  her  instinct  warn- 
ing her  that  the  height  of  the  cell  and  the 
quantity  of  honey  are  beginning  to  assume 
extravagant  proportions. 

The  converse  is  equally  conclusive.     To  a 
66 


Exchanging  the  Nests 

Mason-bee  engaged  in  victualling  I  give  a  nest 
with  a  cell  only  just  begun  and  not  at  all  fit 
to  receive  the  paste.  This  cell,  with  its  last 
course  still  wet  with  its  builder's  saliva,  may 
or  may  not  be  accompanied  by  other  cells 
recently  closed  up,  each  with  its  honey  and  its 
egg.  The  Bee,  finding  this  in  the  place  of  her 
half-filled  honey-store,  is  greatly  perplexed 
what  to  do  when  she  comes  with  her  harvest 
to  this  unfinished,  shallow  cup,  in  which  there 
is  no  place  to  put  the  honey.  She  inspects  it, 
measures  it  with  her  eyes,  tries  it  with  her 
antennae  and  recognizes  its  insufficient  capacity. 
She  hesitates  for  a  long  time,  goes  away, 
comes  back,  flies  away  again  and  soon  returns, 
eager  to  deposit  her  treasure.  The  insect's 
embarrassment  is  most  evident;  and  I  cannot 
help  saying,  inwardly : 

"Get  some  mortar,  get  some  mortar  and 
finish  making  the  warehouse.  It  will  only 
take  you  a  few  moments;  and  you  will  have  a 
cupboard  of  the  right  depth." 

The  Bee  thinks  differently:  she  was  storing 
her  cell  and  she  must  go  on  storing,  come 
what  may.  Never  will  she  bring  herself  to 
lay  aside  the  pollen-brush  for  the  trowel; 
never  will  she  suspend  the  foraging  which  is 
67 


The  Mason-bees 

occupying  her  at  this  moment  to  begin  the 
work  of  construction  which  is  not  yet  due. 
She  will  rather  go  in  search  of  a  strange  cell, 
in  the  desired  condition,  and  slip  in  there  to 
deposit  her  honey,  at  the  risk  of  meeting  with 
a  warm  reception  from  the  irate  owner.  She 
goes  off,  in  fact,  to  try  her  luck.  I  wish  her 
success,  being  myself  the  cause  of  this  desper- 
ate act.  My  curiosity  has  turned  an  honest 
worker  into  a  robber. 

Things  may  take  a  still  more  serious  turn, 
so  invincible,  so  imperious  is  the  desire  to  have 
the  booty  stored  in  a  safe  place  without  delay. 
The  uncompleted  cell  which  the  Bee  refuses 
to  accept  instead  of  her  own  finished  ware- 
house, half-filled  with  honey,  is  often,  as  I 
said,  accompanied  by  other  cells,  not  long 
closed,  each  containing  its  Bee-bread  and  its 
egg.  In  this  case,  I  have  sometimes,  though 
not  always,  witnessed  the  following:  when 
once  the  Bee  realizes  the  shortcomings  of  the 
unfinished  nest,  she  begins  to  gnaw  the  clay 
lid  closing  one  of  the  adjoining  cells.  She 
softens  a  part  of  the  mortar  cover  with  saliva 
and  patiently,  atom  by  atom,  digs  through  the 
hard  wall.  It  is  very  slow  work.  A  good 
half-hour  elapses  before  the  tiny  cavity  is  large 
68 


Exchanging  the  Nests 

enough  to  admit  a  pin's  head.  I  wait  longer 
still.  Then  I  lose  patience;  and,  fully  con- 
vinced that  the  Bee  is  trying  to  open  the  store- 
room, I  decide  to  help  her  to  shorten  the 
work.  I  force  the  lid  with  the  point  of  my 
knife.  The  upper  part  of  the  cell  comes 
away  with  it,  leaving  the  edges  badly  broken. 
In  my  awkwardness,  I  have  turned  an  elegant 
vase  into  a  wretched  cracked  pot. 

I  was  right  in  my  conjecture:  the  Bee's  in- 
tention was  to  break  open  the  door.  Straight 
away,  without  heeding  the  raggedness  of  the 
orifice,  she  settles  down  in  the  cell  which  I 
have  opened  for  her.  Time  after  time,  she 
fetches  honey  and  pollen,  though  the  larder 
is  already  fully  stocked.  Lastly,  she  lays  her 
egg  in  this  cell  which  already  contains  an  egg 
that  is  not  hers,  having  done  which  she  closes 
the  broken  aperture  to  the  best  of  her  ability. 
So  this  purveyor  had  neither  the  knowledge 
nor  the  power  to  bow  to  the  inevitable.  I  had 
made  it  impossible  for  her  to  go  on  with  her 
purveying,  unless  she  first  completed  the  un- 
finished cell  substituted  for  her  own.  But  she 
did  not  retreat  before  that  impossible  task. 
She  accomplished  her  work,  but  in  the  absurd- 
est  way:  by  injuriously  trespassing  upon  an- 
69 


The  Mason-bees 

other's  property,  by  continuing  to  store  pro- 
visions in  a  cupboard  already  full  to  overflow- 
ing, by  laying  her  egg  in  a  cell  in  which  the 
real  owner  had  already  laid  and  lastly  by 
hurriedly  closing  an  orifice  that  called  for  seri- 
ous repairs.  What  better  proof  could  be 
wished  of  the  irresistible  propensity  which  the 
insect  obeys  ? 

Lastly,  there  are  certain  swift  and  consecu- 
tive actions  so  closely  interlinked  that  the 
performance  of  the  second  demands  a  previ- 
ous repetition  of  the  first,  even  when  this  ac- 
tion has  become  useless.  I  have  already 
described  how  the  Yellow-winged  Sphex1  per- 
sists in  descending  into  her  burrow  alone, 
after  depositing  at  its  edge  the  Cricket  whom 
I  maliciously  at  once  remove.  Her  re- 
peated discomfitures  do  not  make  her  abandon 
the  preliminary  inspection  of  the  home,  an 
inspection  which  becomes  quite  useless  when 
renewed  for  the  tenth  or  twentieth  time.  The 
Mason-bee  of  the  Walls  shows  us,  under  an- 
other form,  a  similar  repetition  of  an  act 
which  is  useless  in  itself,  but  which  is  the  com- 
pulsory preface  to  the  act  that  follows.  When 

1Cf.  Insect  Life:  chaps,  vi  to  is..— Translator's  Note. 
70 


Exchanging  the  Nests 

arriving  with  her  provisions,  the  Bee  performs 
a  twofold  operation  of  storing.  First,  she 
dives  head  foremost  into  the  cell,  to  disgorge 
the  contents  of  her  crop ;  next,  she  comes  out 
and  at  once  goes  in  again  backwards,  to  brush 
her  abdomen  and  rub  off  the  load  of  pollen. 
At  the  moment  when  the  insect  is  about  to 
enter  the  cell  tail  first,  I  push  her  aside  gently 
with  a  straw.  The  second  act  is  thus  pre- 
vented. The  Bee  now  begins  the  whole  per- 
formance over  again,  that  is  to  say,  she  once 
more  dives  head  first  to  the  bottom  of  the 
cell,  though  she  has  nothing  left  to  disgorge, 
as  her  crop  has  just  been  emptied.  When  this 
is  done,  it  is  the  belly's  turn.  I  instantly  push 
her  aside  again.  The  insect  repeats  its  pro- 
ceedings, still  entering  head  first;  I  also  repeat 
my  touch  of  the  straw.  And  this  can  go  on 
as  long  as  the  observer  pleases.  Pushed  aside 
at  the  moment  when  she  is  about  to  insert  her 
abdomen  into  the  cell,  the  Bee  goes  back  to 
the  opening  and  persists  in  going  down  head 
first  to  begin  with.  Sometimes,  she  descends 
to  the  bottom,  sometimes  only  half-way,  some- 
times again  she  only  pretends  to  descend,  just 
bending  her  head  into  the  aperture;  but, 
whether  completed  or  not,  this  action,  for 
71 


The  Mason-bees 

which  there  is  no  longer  any  motive,  since 
the  honey  has  already  been  disgorged,  in- 
variably precedes  the  entrance  backwards  to 
deposit  the  pollen.  It  is  almost  the  movement 
of  a  machine  whose  works  are  only  set  going 
when  the  driving-wheel  begins  to  revolve. 


CHAPTER  IV 

MORE  ENQUIRIES  INTO  MASON-BEES 

THIS  chapter  and  the  next  were  to  have 
taken  the  form  of  a  letter  addressed  to 
Charles  Darwin,  the  illustrious  naturalist,  who 
now  lies  buried  beside  Newton  in  Westmin- 
ster Abbey.  It  was  my  task  to  report  to  him 
the  result  of  some  experiments  which  he  had 
suggested  to  me  in  the  course  of  our  corre- 
spondence :  a  very  pleasant  task,  for,  though 
facts,  as  I  see  them,  disincline  me  to  accept 
his  theories,  I  have  none  the  less  the  deepest 
veneration  for  his  noble  character  and  his  sci- 
entific honesty.  I  was  drafting  my  letter  when 
the  sad  news  reached  me:  Darwin  was  dead; 
after  searching  the  mighty  question  of  origins, 
he  was  now  gf  appling  with  the  last  and  dark- 
est problem  of  the  hereafter.1  I  therefore 
abandon  the  epistolary  form,  which  would  be 
unwarranted  in  view  of  that  grave  at  West- 
minster. A  free  and  impersonal  statement 

Darwin  died  on  the  i9th  of  April,  1882,  at  Down,  in 
*Kent. — Translator's  Note. 

73 


The  Mason-bees 

shall  set  forth  what  I  intended  to  relate  in  a 
more  academic  manner. 

One  thing,  above  all,  had  struck  the  Eng- 
lish scientist  on  reading  the  first  volume  of 
my  Souvenirs  entomologiques,  namely,  the 
Mason-bees'  faculty  of  knowing  the  way  back 
to  their  nests  after  being  carried  to  great  dis- 
tances from  home.  What  sort  of  compass  do 
they  employ  on  their  return  journeys?  What 
sense  guides  them?  The  profound  observer 
thereupon  spoke  of  an  experiment  which  he 
had  always  longed  to  make  with  pigeons  and 
which  he  had  always  neglected  making,  ab- 
sorbed as  he  was  by  other  interests.  This  ex- 
periment, he  thought,  I  might  attempt  with 
my  Bees.  Substitute  the  insect  for  the  bird; 
and  the  problem  remained  the  same.  I  quote 
from  his  letter  the  passage  referring  to  the 
trial  which  he  wished  made : 

"Allow  me  to  make  a  suggestion  in  rela- 
tion to  your  wonderful  account  of  insects  find- 
ing their  way  home.  I  formerly  wished  to 
try  it  with  pigeons;  namely,  to  carry  the  in- 
sects in  their  paper  cornets  about  a  hundred 
paces  in  the  opposite  direction  to  that  which 
you  intended  ultimately  to  carry  them,  but 
74  • 


More  Enquiries  into  Mason-bees 

before  turning  round  to  return,  to  put  the  in- 
sects in  a  circular  box  with  an  axle  which  could 
be  made  to  revolve  very  rapidly  first  in 
one  direction  and  then  in  another,  so  as  to 
destroy  for  a  time  all  sense  of  direction  in  the 
insects.  I  have  sometimes  imagined  that  ani- 
mals may  feel  in  which  direction  they  were  at 
the  first  start  carried." 

This  method  of  experimenting  seemed  to 
me  very  ingeniously  conceived.  Before  going 
west,  I  walk  eastwards.  In  the  darkness  of 
their  paper-bags,  the  mere  fact  that  I  am  mov- 
ing them  gives  my  prisoners  a  sense  of  the  di- 
rection in  which  I  am  taking  them.  If  nothing 
happened  to  disturb  this  first  impression, 
the  insect  would  be  guided  by  it  in  returning. 
This  would  explain  the  homing  of  my  Mason- 
bees  carried  to  a  distance  of  two  or  three  miles 
amid  strange  surroundings.  But,  when  the 
insects  have  been  sufficiently  impressed  by 
their  conveyance  to  the  east,  there  comes  the 
rapid  twirl,  first  this  way  round,  then  that. 
Bewildered  by  all  these  revolutions  first  in  one 
direction  and  then  in  another,  the  insect  does 
not  know  that  I  have  turned  round  and  re- 
mains under  its  original  impression.  I  am 

75 


The  Mason-bees 

now  taking  it  to  the  west,  when  it  believes  it- 
self to  be  still  travelling  towards  the  east. 
Under  the  influence  of  this  impression,  the  in- 
sect is  bound  to  lose  its  bearings.  When  set 
free,  it  will  fly  in  the  opposite  direction  to  its 
home,  which  it  will  never  find  again. 

This  result  seemed  to  me  the  more  probable 
inasmuch  as  the  statements  of  the  country- 
folk around  me  were  all  of  a  nature  to  con- 
firm my  hopes.  Favier,1  the  very  man  for 
this  sort  of  information,  was  the  first  to  put 
me  on  the  track.  He  told  me  that,  when  peo- 
ple want  to  move  a  Cat  from  one  farm  to 
another  at  some  distance,  they  place  the  ani- 
mal in  a  bag,  which  they  twirl  rapidly  at  the 
moment  of  starting,  thus  preventing  the  ani- 
mal from  returning  to  the  house  which  it  has 
quitted.  Many  others,  besides  Favier,  de- 
scribed the  same  practice  to  me.  According 
to  them,  this  twirling  round  in  a  bag  was  an 
infallible  expedient :  the  bewildered  Cat  never 
returned.  I  communicated  what  I  had  learnt 
to  England,  I  wrote  to  the  sage  of  Down  and 
told  him  how  the  peasant  had  anticipated  the 
researches  of  science.  Charles  Darwin  was 

'The  author's  gardener  and  factotum.     Cf.  The  Life  of 
the  Fly:  chap.  iv. — Translator's  Note. 
76 


More  Enquiries  into  Mason-bees 

amazed;  so  was  I;  and  we  both  of  us  almost 
reckoned  on  a  success. 

These  preliminaries  took  place  in  the  win- 
ter; I  had  plenty  of  time  to  prepare  for  the 
experiment  which  was  to  be  made  in  the  fol- 
lowing May. 

"Favier,"  I  said,  one  day,  to  my  assistant, 
"I  shall  want  some  of  those  nests.  Go  and 
ask  our  next-door  neighbour's  leave  and  climb 
to  the  roof  of  his  shed,  with  some  new  tiles 
and  some  mortar,  which  you  can  fetch  from 
the  builder's.  Take  a  dozen  tiles  from  the 
roof,  those  with  the  biggest  nests  on  them,  and 
put  the  new  ones  in  their  place." 

Things  were  done  accordingly.  My  neigh- 
bour assented  with  a  good  grace  to  the  ex- 
change of  tiles,  for  he  himself  is  obliged,  from 
time  to  time,  to  demolish  the  work  of  the 
Mason-bee,  unless  he  would  risk  seeing  his 
roof  fall  in  sooner  or  later.  I  was  merely 
forestalling  a  repair  which  became  more 
urgent  every  year.  That  same  evening,  I  was 
in  possession  of  twelve  magnificent  rectangu- 
lar blocks  of  nest,  each  lying  on  the  convex 
surface  of  a  tile,  that  is  to  say,  on  the  surface 
looking  towards  the  inside  of  the  shed.  I  had 
the  curiosity  to  weigh  the  largest:  it  turned 
77 


The  Mason-bees 

the  scale  at  thirty-five  pounds.  Now  the  roof 
whence  it  came  was  covered  with  similar 
masses,  adjoining  one  another,  over  a  stretch 
of  some  seventy  tiles.  Reckoning  only  half 
the  weight,  so  as  to  strike  an  average  between 
the  largest  and  the  smallest  lumps,  we  find 
the  total  weight  of  the  Bee's  masonry  to 
amount  to  three-quarters  of  a  ton.  And, 
even  so,  people  tell  me  that  they  have  seen 
this  beaten  elsewhere.  Leave  the  Mason-bee 
to  her  own  devices,  in  the  spot  that  suits  her; 
allow  the  work  of  many  generations  to  accu- 
mulate, and,  one  fine  day,  the  roof  will  break 
down  under  the  extra  burden.  Let  the  nests 
grow  old;  let  them  fall  to  pieces  when  the 
damp  gets  into  them;  and  you  will  have 
chunks  tumbling  on  your  head  big  enough  to 
crack  your  skull.  There  you  see  the  work  of 
a  very  little-known  insect.1 

'The  insect  is  so  little  known  that  I  made  a  serious 
mistake  when  treating  of  it  in  the  first  volume  of  these 
Souvenirs.  Under  my  erroneous  denomination  of  Chali- 
codoma sicula  are  really  comprised  two  species,  one 
building  its  nests  in  our  dwellings  and  particularly  under 
the  tiles  of  outhouses,  the  other  building  its  nests  on  the 
branches  of  shrubs.  The  first  species  has  received  vari- 
ous names,  which  are,  in  order  of  priority:  Chalicodoma 
Pyrenaica,  LER.  (Megachile) ;  Chalicodoma  pyrrhopeza, 
GERSTACKER;  Chalicodoma  rufitarsis,  GIRAUD.  It  is  a  pity 
78 


More  Enquiries  into  Mason-bees 

These  treasures  were  insufficient,  not  in  re- 
gard to  quantity,  but  in  regard  to  quality,  for 
the  main  object  which  I  had  in  view.  They 
came  from  the  nearest  house,  separated  from 
mine  by  a  little  field  planted  with  corn  and 
olive-trees.  I  had  reason  to  fear  that  the  in- 
sects issuing  from  those  nests  might  be  heredi- 
tarily influenced  by  their  ancestors,  who  had 
lived  in  the  shed  for  many  a  long  year.  The 
Bee,  when  carried  to  a  distance,  would  per- 
haps come  back,  guided  by  the  inveterate 
family  habit;  she  would  find  the  shed  of  her 
lineal  predecessors  and  thence,  without  diffi- 
culty, reach  her  nest.  As  it  is  the  fashion 
nowadays  to  assign  a  prominent  part  to 
these  hereditary  influences,  I  must  eliminate 
them  from  my  experiments.  I  want  strange 

that  the  name  occupying  the  first  place  should  lend  itself 
to  misconception.  I  hesitate  to  apply  the  epithet  of 
Pyrenean  to  an  insect  which  is  much  less  common  in  the 
Pyrenees  than  in  my  own  district.  I  shall  call  it  the 
Chalicodoma,  or  Mason-bee,  of  the  Sheds.  There  is  no 
objection  to  the  use  of  this  name  in  a  book  where  the 
reader  prefers  lucidity  to  the  tyranny  of  systematic  ento- 
mology. The  second  species,  that  which  builds  its  nests  on 
the  branches,  is  Chalicodoma  rufescens,  J.  PEREZ.  For  a 
like  reason,  I  shall  call  it  the  Chalicodoma  of  the  Shrubs. 
I  owe  these  corrections  to  the  kindness  of  the  erudite 
Professor  Jean  Perez,  of  Bordeaux,  who  is  so  well-versed 
in  the  lore  of  Wasps  and  Bees. — Author's  Note. 

79 


The  Mason-bees 

Bees,  brought  from  afar,  whose  return  to  the 
place  of  their  birth  can  in  no  way  assist  their 
return  to  the  nest  transplanted  to  another  site. 
Favier  took  the  business  in  hand.  He  had 
discovered  on  the  banks  of  the  Aygues,  at 
some  miles  from  the  village,  a  deserted  hut, 
where  the  Mason-bees  had  established  them- 
selves in  a  numerous  colony.  He  proposed 
to  take  the  wheel-barrow,  in  which  to  move 
the  blocks  of  cells;  but  I  objected:  the  jolt- 
ing of  the  vehicle  over  the  rough  paths  might 
jeopardize  the  contents  of  the  cells.  A  basket 
carried  on  the  shoulder  was  deemed  safer. 
Favier  took  a  man  to  help  him  and  set  out. 
The  expedition  provided  me  with  four  well- 
stocked  tiles.  It  was  all  that  the  two  men 
were  able  to  carry  between  them;  and  even 
then  I  had  to  stand  treat  on  their  arrival*  they 
were  utterly  exhausted.  Le  Vaillant  tells  us 
of  a  nest  of  Republicans1  with  which  he 
loaded  a  wagon  drawn  by  two  oxen.  My 
Mason-bee  vies  with  the  South-African  bird : 
a  yoke  of  oxen  would  not  have  been  too  many 


1Frangois  Le  Vaillant  (1753-1824),  a  distinguished 
French  naturalist,  born  in  Dutch  Guiana.  "Republicans" 
are  Social  Weaver-birds. — Translator's  Note. 

80 


More  Enquiries  into  Mason-bees 

to  move  the  whole  of  that  nest  from  the  banks 
of  the  Aygues. 

The  next  thing  is  to  place  my  tiles.  I  want 
to  have  them  under  my  eyes,  in  a  position 
where  I  can  watch  them  easily  and  save  my- 
self the  worries  of  earlier  days :  going  up  and 
down  ladders,  standing  for  hours  at  a  stretch 
on  a  narrow  rung  that  hurt  the  soles  of  my 
feet  and  risking  sunstroke  up  against  a  scorch- 
ing wall.  Moreover,  it  is  necessary  that  my 
guests  should  feel  almost  as  much  at  home 
with  me  as  where  they  come  from.  I  must 
make  life  pleasant  for  them,  if  I  would  have 
them  grow  attached  to  the  new  dwelling. 

Under  the  leads  of  my  house  is  a  wide 
arch,  the  sides  of  which  get  the  sun,  while 
the  back  remains  in  the  shade.  There  is  some- 
thing for  everybody:  the  shade  for  me,  the 
sunlight  for  my  boarders.  We  fasten  a  stout 
hook  to  each  tile  and  hang  it  on  the  wall,  on 
a  level  with  our  eyes.  Half  my  nests  are  on 
the  right,  half  on  the  left.  The  general  effect 
is  rather  original.  Any  one  walking  in  and 
seeing  my  show  for  the  first  time  begins  by 
taking  it  for  a  display  of  smoked  provisions, 
gammons  of  some  outlandish  bacon  curing  in 
the  sun.  On  perceiving  his  mistake,  he  falls 
81 


The  Mason-bees 

into  raptures  at  these  new  hives  of  mine.  The 
news  spreads  through  the  village  and  more 
than  one  pokes  fun  at  it.  They  look  upon 
me  as  a  keeper  of  hybrid  Bees : 

"I  wonder  what  he's  going  to  make  out  of 
that !"  say  they. 

My  hives  are  in  full  swing  before  the  end 
of  April.  When  the  work  is  at  its  height,  the 
swarm  becomes  a  little  eddying,  buzzing 
cloud.  The  arch  is  a  much-frequented 
passage :  it  leads  to  a  store-room  for  various 
household  provisions.  The  members  of  my 
family  bully  me  at  first  for  establishing  this 
dangerous  commonwealth  within  the  precincts 
of  our  home.  They  dare  not  go  to  fetch 
things:  they  would  have  to  pass  through  a 
swarm  of  Bees;  and  then  .  .  .  look  out  for 
stings !  There  is  nothing  for  it  but  to  prove, 
once  and  for  all,  that  the  danger  does  not 
exist,  that  mine  is  a  most  peaceable  Bee,  in- 
capable of  stinging  so  long  as  she  is  not 
startled.  I  bring  my  face  close  to  one  of  the 
clay  nests,  so  as  almost  to  touch  it,  while  it 
is  black  with  masons  at  work;  I  let  my  fingers 
wander  through  the  ranks,  I  put  a  few  Bees 
on  my  hand,  I  stand  in  the  thick  of  the  whirl- 
ing crowd  and  never  a  prick  do  I  receive.  I 
82 


More  Enquiries  into  Mason-bees 

have  long  known  their  peaceful  character. 
Time  was  when  I  used  to  share  the  common 
fears,  when  I  hesitated  before  venturing  into 
a  swarm  of  Anthophoras  or  Chalicodomae ; 
nowadays,  I  have  quite  got  over  those  terrors. 
If  you  do  not  tease  the  insect,  the  thought  of 
hurting  you  will  never  occur  to  it.  At  the 
worst,  a  single  specimen,  prompted  by  curi- 
osity rather  than  anger,  will  come  and  hover 
in  front  of  your  face,  examining  you  with 
some  persistency,  but  employing  a  buzz  as  her 
only  threat.  Let  her  be :  her  scrutiny  is  quite 
friendly. 

After  a  few  demonstrations,  my  household 
were  reassured:  all,  old  and  young,  moved  in 
and  out  of  the  arch  as  though  there  were  no- 
thing unusual  about  it.  My  Bees,  far  from  re- 
maining an  object  of  dread,  became  an  object 
of  diversion;  every  one  took  pleasure  in  watch- 
ing the  progress  of  their  ingenious  work.  I 
was  careful  not  to  divulge  the  secret  to 
strangers.  If  any  one,  coming  on  business, 
passed  outside  the  arch  while  I  was  stand- 
ing before  the  hanging  nests,  some  such  brief 
dialogue  as  the  following  would  take  place: 

"So  they  know  you ;  that's  why  they  don't 
sting  you?" 

83 


The  Mason-bees 

"They  certainly  know  me." 

"And  me?" 

"Oh,  you:  that's  another  matter!" 

Whereupon 'the  intruder  would  keep  at  a 
respectful  distance,  which  was  what  I  wanted. 

It  is  time  that  we  thought  of  experiment- 
ing. The  Mason-bees  intended  for  the  jour- 
ney must  be  marked  with  a  sign  whereby  I 
may  know  them.  A  solution  of  gum  arable, 
thickened  with  a  colouring-powder,  red,  blue 
or  some  other  shade,  is  the  material  which  I 
use  to  mark  my  travellers.  The  variety  in 
hue  will  save  me  from  confusing  the  subjects 
of  my  different  experiments. 

When  making  my  former  investigations,  I 
used  to  mark  the  Bees  at  the  place  where  I 
set  them  free.  For  this  operation,  the  in- 
sects had  to  be  held  in  the  fingers  one  after 
the  other;  and  I  was  thus  exposed  to  frequent 
stings,  which  smarted  all  the  more  for  being 
constantly  repeated.  The  consequence  was 
that  I  was  not  always  quite  able  to  control 
my  fingers  and  thumbs,  to  the  great  detriment 
of  my  travellers ;  for  I  could  easily  warp  their 
wing-joints  and  thus  weaken  their  flight.  It 
was  worth  while  improving  the  method  of 
operation,  both  in  my  own  interest  and  in  that 
84 


More  Enquiries  into  Mason-bees 

of  the  insect.  I  must  mark  the  Bee,  carry  her 
to  a  distance  and  release  her,  without  taking 
her  in  my  fingers,  without  once  touching  her. 
The  experiment  was  bound  to  gain  by  these 
nice  precautions.  I  will  describe  the  method 
which  I  adopted. 

The  Bee  is  so  much  engrossed  in  her  work 
when  she  buries  her  abdomen  in  the  cell  and 
rids  herself  of  her  load  of  pollen,  or  when 
she  is  building,  that  it  is  easy,  at  such  times, 
without  alarming  her,  to  mark  the  upper  side 
of  the  thorax  with  a  straw  dipped  in  the  col- 
oured glue.  The  insect  is  not  disturbed  by 
that  slight  touch.  It  flies  off;  it  returns  laden 
with  mortar  or  pollen.  You  allow  these  trips 
to  be  repeated  until  the  mark  on  the  thorax 
is  quite  dry,  which  soon  happens  in  the  hot 
sun  necessary  to  the  Bee's  labours.  The  next 
thing  is  to  catch  her  and  imprison  her  in  a 
paper  bag,  still  without  touching  her.  No- 
thing could  be  easier.  You  place  a  small  test- 
tube  over  the  Bee  engrossed  in  her  work;  the 
insect,  on  leaving,  rushes  into  it  and  is  thence 
transferred  to  the  paper  bag,  which  is  forth- 
with closed  and  placed  in  the  tin  box  that  will 
serve  as  a  conveyance  for  the  whole  party. 
When  releasing  the  Bees,  all  you  have  to  do  is 
85 


The  Mason-bees 

to  open  the  bags.  The  whole  performance 
is  thus  effected  without  once  giving  that  di- 
stressing squeeze  of  the  fingers. 

Another  question  remains  to  be  solved  be- 
fore we  go  further.  What  time-limit  shall 
I  allow  for  this  census  of  the  Bees  that  return 
to  the  nest  ?  Let  me  explain  what  I  mean. 
The  dot  which  I  have  made  in  the  middle  of 
the  thorax  with  a  touch  of  my  sticky  straw 
is  not  very  permanent:  it  merely  adheres  to 
the  hairs.  At  the  same  time,  it  would  have 
been  no  more  lasting  if  I  had  held  the  insect 
in  my  fingers.  Now  the  Bee  often  brushes  her 
back:  she  dusts  it  each  time  she  leaves  the 
galleries;  besides,  she  is  always  rubbing  her 
coat  against  the  walls  of  the  cell,  which  she 
has  to  enter  and  to  leave  each  time  she  brings 
honey.  A  Mason-bee,  so  smartly  dressed  at 
the  start,  at  the  end  of  her  work  is  in  rags; 
her  fur  is  all  worn  bare  and  as  tattered  as  a 
mechanic's  overall. 

Furthermore,  in  bad  weather,  the  Mason- 
bee  of  the  Walls  spends  the  days  and  nights 
in  one  of  the  cells  of  her  dome,  suspended 
head  downwards.  The  Mason-bee  of  the 
Sheds,  as  long  as  there  are  vacant  galleries, 
does  very  nearly  the  same:  she  takes  shelter 


More  Enquiries  into  Mason-bees 

in'  the  galleries,  but  with  her  head  at  the  en- 
trance. But  once  those  old  habitations  are 
in  use  and  the  building  of  new  cells  begun,  she 
selects  another  retreat.  In  the  harmas,1  as 
I  have  said,  are  stone  heaps,  intended  for 
building  the  surrounding  wall.  This  is  where 
my  Chalicodomae  pass  the  night.  Piled  up 
promiscuously,  both  sexes  together,  they  sleep 
in  numerous  companies,  ir^  crevices  between 
two  stones  laid  closely  one  on  top  of  the  other. 
Some  of  these  companies  number  as  many  as 
a  couple  of  hundred.  The  most  common 
dormitory  is  a  narrow  groove.  Here  they  all 
huddle,  as  far  forward  as  possible,  with  their 
backs  in  the  groove.  I  see  some  lying  flat  on 
their  backs,  like  people  asleep.  Should  bad 
weather  come  on,  should  the  sky  cloud  over, 
should  the  north-wind  whistle,  they  do  not 
stir  out. 

With  all  these  things  to  take  into  consider- 
ation, I  cannot  expect  my  dot  on  the  Bee's 
thorax  to  last  any  length  of  time.  By,  day, 
the  constant  brushing  and  the  rubbing  against 
the  partitions  of  the  galleries  soon  wipe  it  off  ; 

^he  waste  ground  on  which  the  author  studies  his  in- 
sects in  the  natural  state.  Cf.  The  Life  of  the  Fly: 
chap.  i. — Translator's  Note. 

87 


The  Mason-bees 

at  night,  things  are  worse  still,  in  the  narrow 
sleeping-room  where  the  Mason-bees  take 
refuge  by  the  hundred.  After  a  night  spent 
in  the  crevice  between  tT/o  stones,  it  is  not  ad- 
visable to  trust  to  the  mark  made  yesterday. 
Therefore,  the  counting  of  the  number  of 
Bees  that  return  to  the  nest  must  be  taken 
in  hand  at  once;  to-morrow  would  be  too  late. 
And  so,  as  it  wo^ld  be  impossible  for  me  to 
recognize  those  of  my  subjects  whose  dots 
had  disappeared  during  the  night,  I  will  take 
into  account  only  those  Bees  who  return  on 
the  same  day. 

The  question  of  the  rotary  machine  re- 
mains. Darwin  advised  me  to  use  a  circular 
box  with  an  axle  and  a  handle.  I  have  no- 
thing of  the  kind  in  the  house.  It  will  be 
simpler  and  quite  as  effective  to  employ  the 
method  of  the  countryman  who  tries  to  lose 
his  Cat  by  swinging  him  in  a  bag.  My  in- 
sects, each  one  placed  by  itself  in  a  paper 
cornet*  or  screw,  shall  be  placed  in  a  tin  box ; 
the  screws  of  paper  shall  be  wedged  in  so  as 

4 

*A  cornet  is  simply  the  old  "sugar-bag,"  the  funnel- 
shaped  paper  bag  so  common  on  the  continent  and  still 
used  occasionally  by  small  grocers  and  tobacconists  in 
England. — Translator's  Note. 


More  Enquiries  into  Mason-bees 

to  avoid  collisions  during  the  rotation;  lastly, 
the  box  shall  be  tied  to  a  cord  and  I  will  whirl 
the  whole  thing  round  like  a  sling.  With  this 
contrivance,  it  will  be  quite  easy  to  obtain 
any  rate  of  speed  that  I  wish,  any  variety  of 
inverse  movements  that  I  consider  likely  to 
make  my  captives  lose  their  bearings.  I  can 
whirl  my  sling  first  in  one  direction  and  then 
in  another,  turn  and  turn  about ;  I  can  slacken 
or  increase  the  pace ;  if  I  like,  I  can  make  it 
describe  figures  of  eight,  combined  with  cir- 
cles; if  I  spin  on  my  heels  at  the  same  time,  I 
am  able  to  make  the  process  still  more  com- 
plicated by  compelling  my  sling  to  trace  every 
known  curve.  That  is  what  I  shall  do. 

On  the  2d  of  May,  1880,  I  make  a  white 
mark  on  the  thorax  of  ten  Mason-bees  busied 
with  various  tasks :  some  are  exploring  the 
slabs  of  clay  in  order  to  select  a  site;  others 
are  bricklaying;  others  are  laying  in  stores. 
When  the  mark  is  dry,  I  catch  them  and  pack 
them  as  I  have  described.  I  first  carry  them 
a  quarter  of  a  mile  in  the  opposite  direction 
to  the  one  which  I  intend  to  take.  A  path 
skirting  my  house  favours  this  preliminary 
manoeuvre ;  I  have  every  hope  of  being  alone 
when  the  time  comes  to  make  play  with  my 


The  Mason-bees 

sling.  There  is  a  wayside  cross  at  the  end; 
I  stop  at  the  foot  of  the  cross.  Here  I  swing 
my  Bees  in  every  direction.  Now,  while  I 
am  making  the  box  describe  inverse  circles  and 
loops,  while  I  am  pirouetting  on  my  heels  to 
achieve  the  various  curves,  up  comes  a  woman 
from  the  village  and  stares  at  me.  Oh,  how 
she  stares  at  me,  what  a  look  she  gives  me ! 
At  the  foot  of  the  cross!  Acting  in  such  a 
silly  way!  People  talked  about  it.  It  was 
sheer  witchcraft.  Had  I  not  dug  up  a  dead 
body,  only  a  few  days  before?  Yes,  I  had 
been  to  a  prehistoric  burial-place,  I  had  taken 
from  it  a  pair  of  venerable,  well-developed 
tibias,  a  set  of  funerary  vessels  and  a  few 
shoulders  of  horse,  placed  there  as  a  viaticum 
for  the  great  journey.  I  had  done  this  thing; 
and  people  knew  it.  And  now,  to  crown  all, 
the  man  of  evil  reputation  is  found  at  the 
foot  of  a  cross  indulging  in  unhallowed  antics. 
No  matter — and  it  shows  no  small  courage 
on  my  part — the  gyrations  are  duly  accom- 
plished in  the  presence  of  this  unexpected  wit- 
ness. Then  I  retrace  my  steps  and  walk  west- 
ward of  Serignan.  I  take  the  least-frequented 
paths,  I  cut  across  country  so  as,  if  possible,  to 
avoid  a  second  meeting.  It  would  be  the  last 
90 


More  Enquiries  into  Mason-bees 

straw  if  I  were  seen  opening  my  paper  bags 
and  letting  loose  my  insects !  When  half- 
way, to  make  my  experiment  more  decisive 
still,  I  repeat  the  rotation,  in  as  complicated 
a  fashion  as  before.  I  repeat  it  for  the  third 
time  at  the  spot  chosen  for  the  release. 

I  am  at  the  end  of  a  flint-strewn  plain,  with 
here  and  there  a  scanty  curtain  of  almond- 
trees  and  holm-oaks.  Walking  at  a  good  pace, 
I  have  taken  thirty  minutes  to  cover  the 
ground  in  a  straight  line.  The  distance, 
therefore,  is,  roughly,  two  miles.  It  is  a  fine 
day,  under  a  clear  sky,  with  a  very  light 
breeze  blowing  from  the  north.  I  sit  down  on 
the  ground,  facing  the  south,  so  that  the  in- 
sects may  be  free  to  take  either  the  direction 
of  their  nest  or  the  opposite  one.  I  let  them 
loose  at  a  quarter  past  two.  When  the  bags 
are  opened,  the  Bees,  for  the  most  part,  circle 
several  times  around  me  and  then  dart  off 
impetuously  in  the  direction  of  Serignan,  as 
far  as  I  can  judge.  It  is  not  easy  to  watch 
them,  because  they  fly  off  suddenly,  after  go- 
ing two  or  three  times  round  my  body,  a 
suspicious-looking  object  which  they  wish,  ap- 
parently, to  reconnoitre  before  starting.  A 
quarter  of  an  hour  later,  my  eldest  daughter, 
91 


The  Mason-bees 

Antonia,  who  is  on  the  look-out  beside  the 
nests,  sees  the  first  traveller  arrive.  On  my 
return,  in  the  course  of  the  evening,  two 
others  come  back.  Total:  three  of  my 
Masons  home  on  the  same  day,  out  of  ten 
scattered  abroad. 

I  resume  the  experiment  next  day.  I  mark 
ten  Mason-bees  with  red,  which  will  enable 
me  to  distinguish  them  from  those  who  re- 
turned on  the  day  before  and  from  those  who 
may  still  return  with  the  white  spot  uneffaced. 
The  same  precautions,  the  same  rotations,  the 
same  localities  as  on  the  first  occasion;  only, 
I  make  no  rotation  on  the  way,  confining  my- 
self to  swinging  my  box  round  on  leaving 
and  on  arriving.  The  insects  are  released  at 
a  quarter  past  eleven.  I  prefer  the  morning, 
as  this  was  the  busiest  time  at  the  works.  One 
Bee  was  seen  by  Antonia  to  be  back  at  the  nest 
by  twenty  minutes  past  eleven.  Supposing  her 
to  be  the  first  let  loose,  it  took  her  just  five 
minutes  to  cover  the  distance.  .  But  there  is 
nothing  to  tell  me  that  it  is  not  another,  in 
which  case  she  needed  less.  It  is  the  fastest 
speed  that  I  have  succeeded  in  noting.  I  my- 
self am  back  at  twelve  and,  within  a  short 
time,  catch  three  others.  I  see  no  more 
92 


More  Enquiries  into  Mason-bees 

during  the  rest  of  the  evening.    Total:  four 
home,  out  of  ten. 

The  4th  of  May  is  a  very  bright,  calm, 
warm  day,  weather  highly  propitious  for  my 
experiments.  I  take  fifty  Chalicodomae 
marked  with  blue.  The  distance  to  be  travel- 
led remains  the  same.  I  make  the  first  ro- 
tation after  carrying  my  insects  a  few  hun- 
dred steps  in  the  direction  opposite  to  that 
which  I  finally  take;  in  addition,  three  rota- 
tions on  the  road;  a  fifth  rotation  at  the  place 
where  they  are  set  free.  If  they  do  not  lose 
their  bearings  this  time,  it  will  not  be  for  lack 
of  twisting  and  turning.  I  begin  to  open  my 
screws  of  paper  at  twenty  minutes  past  nine. 
It  is  rather  early,  for  which  reason  my  Bees, 
on  recovering  their  liberty,  remain  for  a  mo- 
ment undecided  and  lazy;  but,  after  a  short 
sun-bath  on  a  stone  where  I  place  them,  they 
take  wing.  I  am  sitting  on  the  ground,  facing 
the  south,  with  Serignan  on  my  left  and 
Piolenc  on  my  right.  When  the  flight  is  not 
too  swift  to  allow  me  to  perceive  the  direction 
taken,  I  see  my  released  captives  disappear 
to  my  left.  A  few,  but  only  a  few,  go  south ; 
two  or  three  go  west,  or  to  right  of  me.  I  do 
not  speak  of  the  north,  against  which  I  act 

93 


The  Mason-bees 

as  a  screen.  All  told,  the  great  majority  take 
the  left,  that  is  to  say,  the  direction  of  the 
nest.  The  last  is  released  at  twenty  minutes 
to  ten.  One  of  the  fifty  travellers  has  lost 
her  mark  in  the  paper  bag.  I  deduct  her  from 
the  total,  leaving  forty-nine. 

According  to  Antonia,  who  watches  the 
home-coming,  the  earliest  arrivals  appeared 
at  twenty-five  minutes  to  ten,  say  fifteen  min- 
utes after  the  first  was  set  free.  By  twelve 
o'clock  mid-day,  there  are  eleven  back;  and, 
by  four  o'clock  in  the  evening,  seventeen. 
That  ends  the  census.  Total :  seventeen,  out 
of  forty-nine. 

I  resolved  upon  a  fourth  experiment,  on 
the  1 4th  of  May.  The  weather  is  glorious, 
with  a  light  northerly  breeze.  I  take  twenty 
Mason-bees  marked  in  pink,  at  eight  o'clock 
in  the  morning.  Rotations  at  the  start,  after 
a  preliminary  backing  in  a  direction  opposite 
to  that  which  I  intend  to  take ;  two  rotations 
on  the  road;  a  fourth  on  arriving.  All  those 
whose  flight  I  am  able  to  follow  with  my  eyes 
turn  to  my  left,  that  is  to  say,  towards 
Serignan.  Yet  I  had  taken  care  to  leave  the 
choice  free  between  the  two  opposite  direc- 
tions :  in  particular,  I  had  sent  away  my  Dog, 
94 


More  Enquiries  into  Mason-bees 

who  was  on  my  right.  To-day,  the  Bees  do 
not  circle  round  me:  some  fly  away  at  once; 
the  others,  the  greater  number,  feeling  giddy 
perhaps  after  the  pitching  of  the  journey  and 
the  rolling  of  the  sling,  alight  on  the  ground 
a  few  yards  away,  seem  to  wait  until  they  are 
somewhat  recovered  and  then  fly  off  to  the 
left.  I  perceived  this  to  be  the  general  flight, 
whenever  I  was  able  to  observe  at  all.  I  was 
back  at  a  quarter  to  ten.  Two  Bees  with  pink 
marks  were  there  before  me,  of  whom  one 
was  engaged  in  building,  with  her  pellet  of 
mortar  in  her  mandibles.  By  one  o'clock  in 
the  afternoon  there  were  seven  arrivals;  I 
saw  no  more  during  the  rest  of  the  day. 
Total :  seven,  out  of  twenty. 

Let  us  be  satisfied  with  this:  the  experi- 
ment has  been  repeated  often  enough,  but  it 
does  not  conclude  as  Darwin  hoped,  as  I  my- 
self hoped,  especially  after  what  I  have  been 
told  about  the  Cat.  In  vain,  adopting  the 
advice  given,  do  I  carry  my  insects,  first 
in  the  opposite  direction  to  the  place  at 
which  I  intend  to  release  them;  in  vain, 
when  about  to  retrace  my  steps,  do  I 
whirl  my  sling  with  every  complication 
in  the  way  of  whirls  and  twists  that 

95 


The  Mason-bees 

I  am  able  to  imagine;  in  vain,  thinking  to 
increase  the  difficulties,  do  I  repeat  the  rota- 
tion as  often  as  five  times  over:  at  the  start, 
on  the  road,  on  arriving;  it  makes  no  differ- 
ence :  the  Mason-bees  return  and  the  pro- 
portion of  returns  on  the  same  day  fluctuates 
between  thirty  and  forty  per  cent.  It  goes 
to  my  heart  to  abandon  an  idea  suggested  by 
so  famous  a  man  of  science  and  cherished  all 
the  more  readily  inasmuch  as  I  thought  it 
likely  to  provide  a  final  solution.  The  facts 
are  there,  more  eloquent  than  any  number  of 
ingenious  views;  and  the  problem  remains  as 
mysterious  as  ever. 

In  the  following  year,  1881, 1  began  experi- 
menting again,  but  in  a  different  way. 
Hitherto,  I  had  worked  on  the  level.  To  re- 
turn to  the  nest,  my  lost  Bees  had  only  to 
cross  slight  obstacles,  the  hedges  and  spin- 
neys of  the  tilled  fields.  To-day,  I  propose 
to  add  to  the  difficulties  of  distance  those  of 
the  ground  to  be  traversed.  Discontinuing 
all  my  backing-  and  whirling-tactics,  things 
which  I  recognize  as  useless,  I  think  of  re- 
leasing my  Chalicodomae  in  the  thick  of  the 
Serignan  Woods.  How  will  they  escape  from 
that  labyrinth,  where,  in  the  early  days,  I 
96 


More  Enquiries  into  Mason-bees 

needed  a  compass  to  find  my  way?  More- 
over, I  shall  have  an  assistant  with  me,  a  pair 
of  eyes  younger  than  mine  and  better-fitted  to 
follow  my  insects'  first  flight.  That  immedi- 
ate start  in  the  direction  of  the  nest  has  al- 
ready been  repeated  very  often  and  is  begin- 
ning to  interest  me  more  than  the  return  it- 
self. A  pharmaceutical  student,  spending  a 
few  days  with  his  parents,  shall  be  my  eye- 
witness. With  him,  I  feel  at  ease ;  science  and 
he  are  no  strangers. 

The  trip  to  the  woods  takes  place  on  the 
1 6th  of  May.  The  weather  is  hot  and  hints 
at  a  coming  storm.  There  is  a  perceptible 
breeze  from  the  south,  but  not  enough  to  up- 
set my  travellers.  Forty  Mason-bees  are 
caught.  To  shorten  the  preparations,  because 
of  the  distance,  I  do  not  mark  them  while 
they  are  on  the  nests;  I  shall  mark  them  at 
the  starting-point,  as  I  release  them.  It  is 
the  old  method,  prolific  of  stings;  but  I  prefer 
it  to-day,  in  order  to  save  time.  It  takes  me 
an  hour  to  reach  the  place.  The  distance, 
therefore,  allowing  for  windings,  is  about 
three  miles. 

The  site  selected  must  permit  me  to  recog- 
nize the  direction  of  the  insects'  first  flight. 
97 


The  Mason-bees 

I  choose  a  clearing  in  the  middle  of  the  copses. 
All  around  is  a  great  expanse  of  dense  woods, 
shutting  out  the  horizon  on  every  side;  on 
the  south,  in  the  direction  of  the  nests,  a  cur- 
tain of  hills  rises  to  a  height  of  some  three 
hundred  feet  above  the  spot  at  which  I  stand. 
The  wind  is  not  strong,  but  it  is  blowing  in 
the  opposite  direction  to  that  which  my  in- 
sects will  have  to  take  in  order  to  reach  their 
home.  I  turn  my  back  on  Serignan,  so  that, 
when  leaving  my  fingers,  the  Bees,  to  return  to 
the  nest,  will  be  obliged  to  fly  sideways,  to 
right  and  left  of  me ;  I  mark  the  insects  and 
release  them  one  by  one.  I  begin  operations 
at  twenty  minutes  past  ten. 

One-half  of  the  Bees  seem  rather  indolent, 
flutter  about  for  a  while,  drop  to  the  ground, 
appear  to  recover  their  spirits  and  then  start 
off.  The  other  half  show  greater  decision. 
Although  the  insects  have  to  fight  against  the 
soft  wind  that  is  blowing  from  the  south,  they 
make  straight  for  the  nest.  All  go  south, 
after  describing  a  few  circles,  a  few  loops 
around  us.  There  is  no  exception  in  the  case 
of  any  of  those  whose  departure  we  are  able 
to  follow.  The  fact  is  noted  by  myself  and 
my  colleague  beyond  dispute  or  doubt.  My 


More  Enquiries  into  Mason-bees 

Mason-bees  head  for  the  south  as  though 
some  compass  told  them  which  way  the  wind 
was  blowing. 

I  am  back  at  twelve  o'clock.  None  of  the 
strays  is  at  the  nest ;  but,  a  few  minutes  later, 
I  catch  two.  At  two  o'clock,  the  number  has 
increased  to  nine.  But  now  the  sky  clouds 
over,  the  wind  freshens  and  the  storm  is  ap- 
proaching. We  can  no  longer  rely  on  any 
further  arrivals.  Total :  nine,  out  of  forty,  or 
twenty-two  per  cent. 

The  proportion  is  smaller  than  in  the 
former  cases,  when  it  varied  between  thirty 
and  forty  per  cent.  Must  we  attribute  this 
result  to  the  difficulties  to  be  overcome  ?  Can 
the  Mason-bees  have  lost  their  way  in  the 
maze  of  the  forest?  It  is  safer  not  to  give 
an  opinion :  other  causes  intervened  which 
may  have  decreased  the  number  of  those  who 
returned.  I  marked  the  insects  at  the  starting- 
place;  I  handled  them;  and  I  am  not  prepared 
to  say  that  they  were  all  in  the  best  of  con- 
dition on  leaving  my  stung  and  smarting 
fingers.  Besides,  the  sky  has  become  over- 
cast, a  storm  is  imminent.  In  the  month  of 
May,  so  variable,  so  fickle,  in  my  part  of  the 
world,  we  can  hardly  ever  count  on  a  whole 
99 


The  Mason-bees 

day  of  fine  weather.  A  splendid  morning  is 
swiftly  followed  by  a  fitful  afternoon ;  and  my 
experiments  with  Mason-bees  have  often  suf- 
fered by  these  variations.  All  things  con- 
sidered, I  am  inclined  to  think  that  the  home- 
ward journey  across  the  forest  and  the  mount- 
ain is  effected  just  as  readily  as  across  the 
corn-fields  and  the  plain. 

I  have  one  last  resource  left  whereby  to 
try  and  put  my  Bees  out  of  their  latitude.  I 
will  first  take  them  to  a  great  distance;  then, 
describing  a  wide  curve,  I  will  return  by  an- 
other^ road  and  release  my  captives  when  I 
am  near  enough  to  the  village,  say,  about  two 
miles.  A  conveyance  is  necessary,  this  time. 
My  collaborator  of  the  day  in  the  woods  of- 
fers me  the  use  of  his  gig.  The  two  of  us  set 
off,  with  fifteen  Mason-bees,  along  the  road 
to  Orange,  until  we  come  to  the  viaduct. 
Here,  on  the  right,  is  the  straight  ribbon  of 
the  old  Roman  road,  the  Via  Domitia.  We 
take  it,  driving  north  towards  the  Uchaux 
Mountains,  the  classic  home  of  superb  Turo- 
nian  fossils.  We  next  turn  back  towards 
Serignan,  by  the  Piolenc  Road.  A  halt  is 
made  by  the  stretch  of  country  known  as  Font- 
Claire,  the  distance  from  which  to  the  village 


More  Enquiries  into  Mason-bees 

is  about  one  mile  and  five  furlongs.  The 
reader  can  easily  follow  my  route  on  the 
ordnance-survey  map ;  and  he  will  see  that  the 
loop  described  measures  not  far  short  of  five 
miles  and  a  half. 

At  the  same  time,  Favier  came  and  joined 
me  at  Font-Claire,  by  the  direct  road,  the  one 
that  runs  through  Piolenc.  He  brought  with 
him  fifteen  Mason-bees,  intended  for  purposes 
of  comparison  with  mine.  I  am,  therefore,  in 
possession  of  two  sets  of  insects.  Fifteen, 
marked  in  pink,  have  taken  the  five-mile  bend; 
fifteen,  marked  in  blue,  have  come  by  the 
straight  road,  the  shortest  road  for  returning 
to  the  nest.  The  weather  is  warm,  exceedingly 
bright  and  very  calm ;  I  could  not  hope  for  a 
better  day  for  my  experiment.  The  insects 
are  given  their  freedom  at  mid-day. 

At  five  o'clock,  the  arrivals  number  seven 
of  the  pink  Mason-bees,  whom  I  thought  that 
I  had  bewildered  by  a  long  and  circuitous 
drive,  and  six  of  the  blue  Mason-bees,  who 
came  to  Font-Claire  by  the  direct  route.  The 
two  proportions,  forty-six  and  forty  per  cent., 
are  almost  equal;  and  the  slight  excess  in  fa- 
vour of  the  insects  that  went  the  roundabout 
way  is  evidently  an  accidental  result  which  we 

101 


The  Mason-bees 

need  not  take  into  consideration.  The  bend 
described  cannot  have  helped  them  to  find 
their  way  home ;  but  it  has  also  certainly  not 
hampered  them. 

There  is  no  need  of  further  proof.  The  in- 
tricate movements  of  a  rotation  such  as  I  have 
described;  the  obstacle  of  hills  and  woods; 
the  pitfalls  of  a  road  which  moves  on,  moves 
back  and  returns  after  making  a  wide  circuit : 
none  of  these  is  able  to  disconcert  the  Chali- 
codomae  or  prevent  them  from  going  back 
to  the  nest. 

I  had  written  to  Charles  Darwin  telling 
him  of  my  first,  negative  results,  those  ob- 
tained by  swinging  the  Bees  round  in  a  box. 
He  expected  a  success  and  was  much  surprised 
at  the  failure.  Had  he  had  time  to  experi- 
ment with  his  pigeons,  they  would  have  be- 
haved just  like  my  Bees;  the  preliminary 
twirling  would  not  have  affected  them.  The 
problem  called  for  another  method ;  and  what 
he  proposed  was  this : 

"To  place  the  insect  within  an  induction- 
coil,  so  as  to  disturb  any  magnetic  or  diamag- 
netic  sensibility  which  it  seems  just  possible 
that  they  may  possess." 


More  Enquiries  into  Mason-bees 

To  treat  an  insect  as  you  would  a  mag- 
netic needle  and  to  subject  it  to  the  current 
from  an  induction-coil  in  order  to  disturb  its 
magnetism  or  diamagnetism  appeared  to  me, 
I  must  confess,  a  curious  notion,  worthy  of 
an  imagination  in  the  last  ditch.  I  have  but 
little  confidence  in  our  physics,  when  they  pre- 
tend to  explain  life;  nevertheless,  my  respect 
for  the  great  man  would  have  made  me  re- 
sort to  the  induction-coils,  if  I  had  possessed 
the  necessary  apparatus.  But  my  village 
boasts  no  scientific  resources:  if  I  want  an 
electric  spark,  I  am  reduced  to  rubbing  a  sheet 
of  paper  on  my  knees.  My  physics  cupboard 
contains  a  magnet;  and  that  is  about  all. 
When  this  penury  was  realized,  another 
method  was  suggested,  simpler  than  the  first 
and  more  certain  in  its  results,  as  Darwin  him- 
self considered: 

"To  make  a  very  thin  needle  into  a  mag- 
net; then  breaking  it  into  very  short  pieces, 
which  would  still  be  magnetic,  and  fastening 
one  of  these  pieces  with  some  cement  on  the 
thorax  of  the  insects  to  be  experimented  on. 
I  believe  that  such  a  little  magnet,  from  its 
close  proximity  to  the  nervous  system  of  the 
103 


The  Mason-bees 

insect,  would  affect  it  more  than  would  the 
terrestrial  currents." 

There  is  still  the  same  idea  of  turning  the 
insect  into  a  sort  of  bar  magnet.  The  ter- 
restrial currents  guide  it  when  returning  to 
the  nest.  It  becomes  a  living  compass  which, 
withdrawn  from  the  action  of  the  earth  by 
the  proximity  of  a  loadstone,  loses  its  sense  of 
direction.  With  a  tiny  magnet  fastened  on 
its  thorax,  parallel  with  the  nervous  system 
and  more  powerful  than  the  terrestrial  mag- 
netism by  reason  of  its  comparative  nearness, 
the  insect  will  lose  its  bearings.  Naturally, 
in  setting  down  these  lines,  I  take  shelter  be- 
hind the  mighty  reputation  of  the  learned  be- 
getter of  the  idea.  It  would  not  be  accepted 
as  serious  coming  from  a  humble  person  like 
myself.  Obscurity  cannot  afford  these  auda- 
cious theories. 

The  experiment  seems  easy;  it  is  not  be- 
yond the  means  at  my  disposal.  Let  us  at- 
tempt it.  I  magnetize  a  very  fine  needle  by 
rubbing  it  with  my  bar  magnet;  I  retain  only 
the  slenderest  part,  the  point,  some  five  or 
six  millimetres  long.1  This  broken  piece  is  a 

\2  to  .23  inch. — Translator's  Note. 
104 


More  Enquiries  into  Mason-bees 

perfect  magnet :  it  attracts  and  repels  another 
magnetized  needle  hanging  from  a  thread. 
I  am  a  little  puzzled  as  to  the  best  way  to 
fasten  it  on  the  insect's  thorax.  My  assistant 
of  the  moment,  the  pharmaceutical  student, 
requisitions  all  the  adhesives  in  his  labora- 
tory. The  best  is  a  sort  of  cerecloth  which 
he  prepares  specially  with  a  very  fine  mate- 
rial. It  possesses  the  advantage  that  it  can 
be  softened  at  the  bowl  of  one's  pipe  when  the 
time  comes  to  operate  out  of  doors. 

I  cut  out  of  this  cerecloth  a  small  square 
the  size  of  the  Bee's  thorax ;  and  I  insert  the 
magnetized  point  through  a  few  threads  of 
the  material.  All  that  we  now  have  to  do  is 
to  soften  the  gum  a  little  and  then  dab  the 
thing  at  once  on  the  Mason-bee's  back,  so 
that  the  broken  needle  runs  parallel  with  the 
spine.  Other  engines  of  the  same  kind  are 
prepared  and  due  note  taken  of  their  poles, 
so  as  to  enable  me  to  point  the  south  pole  at 
the  insect's  head  in  some  cases  and  at  the  op- 
posite end  in  others. 

My  assistant  and  I  began  by  rehearsing  the 

performance;  we  must  have  a  little  practice 

before    trying    the    experiment    away    from 

home.    Besides,  I  want  to  see  how  the  insect 

105 


The  Mason-bees 

will  behave  in  its  magetic  harness.  I  take 
a  Mason-bee  at  work  in  her  cell,  which  I 
mark.  I  carry  her  to  my  study,  at  the  other 
end  of  the  house.  The  magnetized  outfit  is 
fastened  on  the  thorax;  and  the  insect  is  let  go. 
The  moment  she  is  free,  the  Bee  drops  to  the 
ground  and  rolls  about,  like  a  mad  thing,  on 
the  floor  of  the  room.  She  resumes  her  flight, 
flops  down  again,  turns  over  on  her  side,  on 
her  back,  knocks  against  the  things  in  her 
way,  buzzes  noisily,  flings  herself  about  de- 
sperately and  ends  by  daring  through  the 
open  window  in  headlong  flight. 

What  does  it  all  mean?  The  magnet  ap- 
pears to  have  a  curious  effect  on  my  patient's 
system !  What  a  fuss  she  makes !  How  ter- 
rified she  is!  The  Bee  seemed  utterly  dis- 
traught at  losing  her  bearings  under  the  in- 
fluence of  my  knavish  tricks.  Let  us  go  to  the 
nests  and  see  what  happens.  We  have  not 
long  to  wait :  my  insect  returns,  but  rid  of  its 
magnetic  tackle.  I  recognize  it  by  the  traces 
of  gum  that  still  cling  to  the  hair  of  the 
thorax.  It  goes  back  to  its  cell  and  resumes 
its  labours. 

Always  on  my  guard  when  searching  the 
unknown,  unwilling  to  draw  conclusions  be- 
106 


More  Enquiries  into  Mason-bees 

fore  weighing  the  arguments  for  and  against, 
I  feel  doubt  creeping  in  upon  me  with  regard 
to  what  I  have  seen.  Was  it  really  the  mag- 
netic influence  that  disturbed  my  Bee  so 
strangely?  When  she  struggled  and  kicked 
on  the  floor,  fighting  wildly  with  both  legs 
and  wings,  when  she  fled  in  terror,  was  she 
under  the  sway  of  the  magnet  fastened  on  her 
back?  Can  my  appliance  have  thwarted  the 
guiding  influence  of  the  terrestrial  currents 
on  her  nervous  system  ?  Or  was  her  distress 
merely  the  result  of  an  unwonted  harness? 
This  is  what  remains  to  be  seen  and  that  with- 
out delay. 

I  construct  a  new  apparatus,  but  provide  it 
with  a  short  straw  in  place  of  the  magnet. 
The  insect  carrying  it  on  its  back  rolls  on  the 
ground,  kicks  and  flings  herself  about  like  the 
first,  until  the  irksome  contrivance  is  removed, 
taking  with  it  a  part  of  the  fur  on  the  thorax. 
The  straw  produces  the  same  effects  as  the 
magnet,  in  other  words,  magnetism  had  no- 
thing to  do  with  what  happened.  My  inven- 
tion, in  both  cases  alike,  is  a  cumbrous  tackle 
of  which  the  Bee  tries  to  rid  herself  at  once 
by  every  possible  means.  To  look  to  her  for 
normal  actions  so  long  as  she  carries  an  ap- 
107 


The  Mason-bees 

paratus,  magnetized  or  not,  upon  her  back  is 
the  same  as  expecting  to  study  the  natural 
habits  of  a  Dog  after  tying  a  kettle  to  his  tail. 
The  experiment  with  the  magnet  is  im- 
practicable. What  would  it  tell  us  if  the  in- 
sect consented  to  it?  In  my  opinion,  it  would 
tell  us  nothing.  In  the  matter  of  the  homing 
instinct,  a  magnet  would  have  no  more  influ- 
ence than  a  bit  of  straw. 


108 


CHAPTER  V 

THE  STORY  OF  MY  CATS 

IF  THIS  swinging-process  fails  entirely 
when  its  object  is  to  make  the  insect  lose 
its  bearings,  what  influence  can  it  have  upon 
the  Cat?  Is  the  method  of  whirling  the  ani- 
mal round  in  a  bag,  to  prevent  its  return, 
worthy  of  confidence?  I  believed  in  it  at 
first,  so  close-allied  was  it  to  the  hopeful  idea 
suggested  by  the  great  Darwin.  But  my  faith 
is  now  shaken :  my  experience  with  the  insect 
makes  me  doubtful  of  the  Cat.  If  the  former 
returns  after  being  whirled,  why  should  not 
the  latter?  I  therefore  embark  upon  fresh 
experiments. 

And,  first  of  all,  to  what  extent  does  the 
Cat  deserve  his  reputation  of  being  able  to 
return  to  the  beloved  home,  to  the  scenes  of 
his  amorous  exploits,  on  the  tiles  and  in  the 
hay-lofts?  The  most  curious  facts  are  told 
of  his  instinct ;  children's  books  on  natural  his- 
tory abound  with  feats  that  do  the  greatest 
credit  to  his  prowess  as  a  pilgrim.  I  do  not 
109 


The  Mason-bees 

attach  much  importance  to  these  stories :  they 
come  from  casual  observers,  uncritical  folk 
given  to  exaggeration.  It  is  not  everybody 
who  can  talk  about  animals  correctly.  When 
some  one  not  of  the  craft  gets  on  the  subject 
and  says  to  me,  "Such  or  such  an  animal  is 
black,"  I  begin  by  finding  out  if  it  does  not 
happen  to  be  white ;  and  many  a  time  the  truth 
is  discovered  in  the  converse  proposition. 
Men  come  to  me  and  sing  the  praises  of  the 
Cat  as  a  travelling  expert.  Well  and  good: 
we  will  now  look  upon  the  Cat  as  a  poor  tra- 
veller. And  that  would  be  the  extent  of  my 
knowledge  if  I  had  only  the  evidence  of  books 
and  of  people  unaccustomed  to  the  scruples 
of  scientific  examination.  Fortunately,  I  am 
acquainted  with  a  few  incidents  that  will  stand 
the  test  of  my  incredulity.  The  Cat  really  de- 
serves his  reputation  as  a  discerning  pilgrim. 
Let  us  relate  these  incidents. 

One  day — it  was  at  Avignon — there  ap- 
peared upon  the  garden-wall  a  wretched- 
looking  Cat,  with  matted  coat  and  protru- 
ding ribs;  so  thin  that  his  back  was  a  jagged 
ridge.  He  was  mewing  with  hunger.  My 
children,  at  that  time  very  young,  took  pity 
on  his  misery.  Bread  soaked  in  milk  was  of- 


The  Story  of  My  Cats 

fered  him  at  the  end  of  a  reed.  He  took  it. 
And  the  mouthfuls  succeeded  one  another  to 
such  good  purpose  that  he  was  sated  and  went 
off,  heedless  of  the  "Puss !  Puss !"  of  his  com- 
passionate friends.  Hunger  returned;  and 
the  starveling  reappeared  in  his  wall-top 
refectory.  He  received  the  same  fare  of 
bread  soaked  in  milk,  the  same  soft  words. 
He  allowed  himself  to  be  tempted.  He  came 
down  from  the  wall.  The  children  were  able 
to  stroke  his  back.  Goodness,  how  thin  he 
was! 

It  was  the  great  topic  of  conversation. 
We  discussed  it  at  table:  we  would  tame  the 
vagabond,  we  would  keep  him,  we  would 
make  him  a  bed  of  hay.  It  was  a  most  im- 
portant matter:  I  can  see  to  this  day,  I  shall 
always  see  the  council  of  rattleheads  deli- 
berating on  the  Cats  fate.  They  were  not 
satisfied  until  the  savage  animal  remained. 
Soon  he  grew  into  a  magnificent  Tom.  His 
large  round  head,  his  muscular  legs,  his  red- 
dish fur,  flecked  with  darker  patches,  re- 
minded one  of  a  little  jaguar.  He  was 
christened  Ginger  because  of  his  tawny  hue. 
A  mate  joined  him  later,  picked  up  in  almost 
similar  circumstances.  Such  was  the  origin 


The  Mason-bees 

of  my  series  of  Gingers,  which  I  have  re- 
tained for  little  short  of  twenty  years  through 
the  vicissitudes  of  my  various  removals. 

The  first  of  these  removals  took  place  in 
1870.  A  little  earlier,  a  minister  who  has 
left  a  lasting  memory  in  the  University,  that 
fine  man,  Victor  Duruy,1  had  instituted  classes 
for  the  secondary  education  of  girls.  This 
was  the  beginning,  as  far  as  was  then  possi- 
ble, of  the  burning  question  of  to-day.  I  very 
gladly  lent  my  humble  aid  to  this  labour  of 
light.  I  was  put  to  teach  physical  and  natural 
science.  I  had  faith  and  was  not  sparing  of 
work,  with  the  result  that  I  rarely  faced  a 
more  attentive  or  interested  audience.  The 
days  on  which  the  lessons  fell  were  red-letter 
days,  especially  when  the  lesson  was  botany 
and  the  table  disappeared  from  view  under 
the  treasures  of  the  neighbouring  conserva- 
tories. 

That  was  going  too  far.  In  fact,  you  can 
see  how  heinous  my  crime  was :  I  taught  those 
young  persons  what  air  and  water  are; 

ljean  Victor  Duruy  (1811-1894),  author  of  a  number 
of  historical  works,  including  a  well-known  Histoire  des 
romains,  and  minister  of  public  instruction  under  Napo- 
leon III.  from  1863  to  1869.  Cf.  The  Life  of  the  Fly: 
chap.  xx. — Translator's  Note. 


112 


The  Story  of  My  Cats 

whence  the  lightning  comes  and  the  thunder; 
by  what  device  our  thoughts  are  transmitted 
across  the  seas  and  continents  by  means  of 
a  metal  wire;  why  fire  burns  and  why  we 
breathe;  how  a  seed  puts  forth  shoots  and 
how  a  flower  blossoms :  all  eminently  hateful 
things  in  the  eyes  of  some  people,  whose  fee- 
ble eyes  are  dazzled  by  the  light  of  day. 

The  little  lamp  must  be  put  out  as  quickly 
as  possible  and  measures  taken  to  get  rid  of 
the  officious  person  who  strove  to  keep  it 
alight.  The  scheme  was  darkly  plotted  with 
the  old  maids  who  owned  my  house  and  who 
saw  the  abomination  of  desolation  in  these 
new  educational  methods.  I  had  no  written 
agreement  to  protect  me.  The  bailiff  appeared 
with  a  notice  on  stamped  paper.  It  baldly 
informed  me  that  I  must  move  out  within 
four  weeks  from  date,  failing  which  the  law 
would  turn  my  goods  and  chattels  into  the 
street.  I  had  hurriedly  to  provide  myself 
with  a  dwelling.  The  first  house  which  we 
found  happened  to  be  at  Orange.  Thus  was 
my  exodus  from  Avignon  effected. 

We  were  somewhat  anxious  about  the  mo- 
ving of  the  Cats.  We  were  all  of  us  attached 
to  them  and  should  have  thought  it  nothing 


The  Mason-bees 

short  of  criminal  to  abandon  the  poor  crea- 
tures, whom  we  had  so  often  petted,  to  di- 
stress and  probably  to  thoughtless  persecution. 
The  shes  and  the  kittens  would  travel  with- 
out any  trouble :  all  you  have  to  do  is  to  put 
them  in  a  basket ;  they  will  keep  quiet  on  the 
journey.  But  the  old  Tom-cats  were  a  seri- 
ous problem.  I  had  two:  the  head  of  the 
family,  the  patriarch ;  and  one  of  his  descend- 
ants, quite  as  strong  as  himself.  We  decided 
to  take  the  grandsire,  if  he  consented  to  come, 
and  to  leave  the  grandson  behind,  after  find- 
ing him  a  home. 

My  friend  Dr.  Loriol  offered  to  take 
charge  of  the  forsaken  one.  The  animal  was 
carried  to  him  at  nightfall  in  a  closed  hamper. 
Hardly  were  we  seated  at  the  evening-meal, 
talking  of  the  good  fortune  of  our  Tom-cat, 
when  we  saw  a  dripping  mass  jump  through 
the  window.  The  shapeless  bundle  came  and 
rubbed  itself  against  our  legs,  purring  with 
happiness.  It  was  the  Cat. 

I  learnt  his  story  next  day.  On  arriving  at 
Dr.  Loriors,  he  was  locked  up  in  a  bedroom. 
The  moment  he  saw  himself  a  prisoner  in  the 
unfamiliar  room,  he  began  to  jump  about 
wildly  on  the  furniture,  against  the  window- 
114 


The  Story  of  My  Cats 

panes,  among  the  ornaments  on  the  mantel- 
piece, threatening  to  make  short  work  of 
everything.  Mme.  Loriol  was  frightened  by 
the  little  lunatic;  she  hastened  to  open  the 
window;  and  the  Cat  leapt  out  among  the 
passers-by.  A  few  minutes  later,  he  was  back 
at  home.  And  it  was  no  easy  matter :  he  had 
to  cross  the  town  almost  from  end  to  end; 
he  had  to  make  his  way  through  a  long  laby- 
rinth of  crowded  streets,  amid  a  thousand  dan- 
gers, including  first  boys  and  next  dogs; 
lastly — and  this  perhaps  was  an  even  more 
serious  obstacle — he  had  to  pass  over  the 
Sorgue,  a  river  running  through  Avignon. 
There  were  bridges  at  hand,  many,  in  fact; 
but  the  animal,  taking  the  shortest  cut,  had 
used  none  of  them,  bravely  jumping  into  the 
water,  as  its  streaming  fur  showed.  I  had 
pity  on  the  poor  Cat,  so  faithful  to  his  home. 
We  agreed  to  do  our  utmost  to  take  him  with 
us.  We  were  spared  the  worry:  a  few  days 
later,  he  was  found  lying  stiff  and  stark  under 
a  shrub  in  the  garden.  The  plucky  animal 
had  fallen  a  victim  to  some  stupid  act  of  spite. 
Some  one  had  poisoned  him  for  me.  Who? 
It  is  not  likely  that  it  was  a  friend  1 

There  remained  the  old  Cat.    He  was  not 
"5 


The  Mason-bees 

indoors  when  we  started;  he  was  prowling 
round  the  hay-lofts  of  the  neighbourhood. 
The  carrier  was  promised  an  extra  ten  francs 
if  he  brought  the  Cat  to  Orange  with  one  of 
the  loads  which  he  had  still  to  convey.  On 
his  last  journey  he  brought  him  stowed  away 
under  the  driver's  seat.  I  scarcely  knew  my 
old  Tom  when  we  opened  the  moving  prison 
in  which  he  had  been  confined  since  the  day 
before.  He  came  out  looking  a  most  alarm- 
ing beast,  scratching  and  spitting,  with 
bristling  hair,  bloodshot  eyes,  lips  white  with 
foam.  I  thought  him  mad  and  watched  him 
closely  for  a  time.  I  was  wrong :  it  was  merely 
the  fright  of  a  bewildered  animal.  Had 
there  been  trouble  with  the  carrier  when  he 
was  caught?  Did  he  have  a  bad  time  on  the 
journey?  History  is  silent  on  both  points. 
What  I  do  know  is  that  the  very  nature  of 
the  Cat  seemed  changed :  there  was  no  more 
friendly  purring,  no  more  rubbing  against  our 
legs;  nothing  but  a  wild  expression  and  the 
deepest  gloom.  Kind  treatment  could  not 
soothe  him.  For  a  few  weeks  longer,  he 
dragged  his  wretched  existence  from  corner 
to  corner;  then,  one  day,  I  found  him  lying 
dead  in  the  ashes  on  the  hearth.  Grief,  with 
116 


The  Story  of  My  Cats 

the  help  of  old  age,  had  killed  him.  Would 
he  have  gone  back  to  Avignon,  had  he  had 
the  strength?  I  would  not  venture  to  affirm 
it.  But,  at  least,  I  think  it  very  remarkable 
that  an  animal  should  let  itself  die  of  home- 
sickness because  the  infirmities  of  age  prevent 
it  from  returning  to  its  old  haunts. 

What  the  patriarch  could  not  attempt,  we 
shall  see  another  do,  over  a  much  shorter  di- 
stance, I  admit.  A  fresh  move  is  resolved 
upon,  to  give  me,  at  long  length,  the  peace 
and  quiet  essential  to  my  work.  This  time, 
I  hope  that  it  will  be  the  last.  I  leave  Orange 
for  Serignan. 

The  family  of  Gingers  has  been  renewed: 
the  old  ones  have  passed  away,  new  ones  have 
come,  including  a  full-grown  Tom,  worthy  in 
all  respects  of  his  ancestors.  He  alone  will 
give  us  some  difficulty;  the  others,  the  babies 
and  the  mothers,  can  be  removed  without 
trouble.  We  put  them  into  baskets.  The 
Tom  has  one  to  himself,  so  that  the  peace 
may  be  kept.  The  journey  is  made  by  car- 
riage, in  company  with  my  family.  Nothing 
striking  happens  before  our  arrival.  Re- 
leased from  their  hampers,  the  females  in- 
spect the  new  home,  explore  the  rooms  one 
117 


The  Mason-bees 

by  one;  with  their  pink  noses  they  recognize 
the  furniture :  they  find  their  own  seats,  their 
own  tables,  their  own  arm-chairs ;  but  the  sur- 
roundings are  different.  They  give  little  sur- 
prised miaows  and  questioning  glances.  A 
few  caresses  and  a  saucer  of  milk  allay  all 
their  apprehensions ;  and,  by  the  next  day,  the 
mother  Cats  are  acclimatized. 

It  is  a  different  matter  with  the  Tom.  We 
house  him  in  the  attics,  where  he  will  find 
ample  room  for  his  capers ;  we  keep  him  com- 
pany, to  relieve  the  weariness  of  captivity; 
we  take  him  a  double  portion  of  plates  to  lick; 
from  time  to  time,  we  place  him  in  touch  with 
some  of  his  family,  to  show  him  that  he  is  not 
alone  in  the  house ;  we  pay  him  a  host  of  at- 
tentions, in  the  hope  of  making  him  forget 
Orange.  He  appears,  in  fact,  to  forget  it: 
he  is  gentle  under  the  hand  that  pets  him,  he 
comes  when  called,  purrs,  arches  his  back.  It 
is  well :  a  week  of  seclusion  and  kindly  treat- 
ment have  banished  all  notions  of  returning. 
Let  us  give  him  his  liberty.  He  goes  down 
to  the  kitchen,  stands  by  the  table  like  the 
others,  goes  out  into  the  garden,  under  the 
watchful  eye  of  Aglae,  who  does  not  lose  sight 
of  him;  he  prowls  all  around  with  the  most 
118 


The  Story  of  My  Cats 

innocent  air.  He  comes  back.  Victory !  The 
Tom-cat  will  not  run  away. 

Next  morning: 

"Puss!    Puss!" 

Not  a  sign  of  him!  We  hunt,  we  call. 
Nothing.  Oh,  the  hypocrite,  the  hypocrite! 
How  he  has  tricked  us!  He  has  gone,  he  is 
at  Orange.  None  of  those  about  me  can  be- 
lieve in  this  venturesome  pilgrimage.  I  de- 
clare that  the  deserter  is  at  this  moment  at 
Orange  mewing  outside  the  empty  house. 

Aglae  and  Claire  went  to  Orange.  They 
found  the  Cat,  as  I  said  they  would,  and 
brought  him  back  in  a  hamper.  His  paws 
and  belly  were  covered  with  red  clay ;  and  yet 
the  weather  was  dry,  there  was  no  mud.  The 
Cat,  therefore,  must  have  got  wet  crossing 
the  Aygues  torrent;  and  the  moist  fur  had 
kept  the  red  earth  of  the  fields  through  which 
he  had  passed.  The  distance  from  Serignan 
to  Orange,  in  a  straight  line,  is  four  and  a 
half  miles.  There  are  two  bridges  over  the 
Aygues,  one  above  and  one  below  that  line, 
some  distance  away.  The  Cat  took  neither 
the  one  nor  the  other:  his  instinct  told  him 
the  shortest  road  and  he  followed  that  road, 
as  his  belly,  covered  with  red  mud,  proved. 
119 


The  Mason-bees 

He  crossed  the  torrent  in  May,  at  a  time  when 
the  rivers  run  high;  he  overcame  his  repug- 
nance to  water  in  order  to  return  to  his  be- 
loved home.  The  Avignon  Tom  did  the  same 
when  crossing  the  Sorgue. 

The  deserter  was  reinstated  in  his  attic  at 
Serignan.  He  stayed  there  for  a  fortnight; 
and  at  last  we  let  him  out.  Twenty-four 
hours  had  not  elapsed  before  he  was  back  at 
Orange.  We  had  to  abandon  him  to  his  un- 
happy fate.  A  neighbour  living  out  in  the 
country,  near  my  former  house,  told  me  that 
he  saw  him  one  day  hiding  behind  a  hedge 
with  a  rabbit  in  his  mouth.  Once  no  longer 
provided  with  food,  he,  accustomed  to  all  the 
sweets  of  a  Cat's  existence,  turned  poacher, 
taking  toll  of  the  farm-yards  round  about  my 
old  home.  I  heard  no  more  of  him.  He  came 
to  a  bad  end,  no  doubt :  he  had  become  a  rob- 
ber and  must  have  met  with  a  robber's  fate. 

The  experiment  has1  been  made  and  here  is 
the  conclusion,  twice  proved.  Full-grown 
Cats  can  find  their  way  home,  in  spite  of  the 
distance  and  their  complete  ignorance  of  the 
intervening  ground.  They  have,  in  their  own 
fashion,  the  instinct  of  my  Mason-bees.  A 
second  point  remains  to  be  cleared  up,  that 


The  Story  of  My  Cats 

of  the  swinging  motion  in  the  bag.  Are  they 
thrown  out  of  their  latitude  by  this  stratagem, 
or  are  they  not?  I  was  thinking  of  making 
some  experiments,  when  more  precise  infor- 
mation arrived  and  taught  me  that  it  was  not 
necessary.  The  first  who  acquainted  me  with 
the  method  of  the  revolving  bag  was  telling 
the  story  told  him  by  a  second  person,  who 
repeated  the  story  of  a  third,  a  story  related 
on  the  authority  of  a  fourth;  and  so  on. 
None  had  tried  it,  none  had  seen  it  for  him- 
self. It  is  a  tradition  of  the  country-side. 
One  and  air  extol  it  as  an  infallible  method, 
without,  for  the  most  part,  having  attempted 
it.  And  the  reason  which  they  give  for  its 
success  is,  in  their  eyes,  conclusive.  If,  say 
they,  we  ourselves  are  blindfolded  and  then 
spin  round  for  a  few  seconds,  we  no  longer 
know  where  we  are.  Even  so  with  the  Cat 
carried  off  in  the  darkness  of  the  swinging 
bag.  They  argue  from  man  to  the  animal, 
just  as  others  argue  from  the  animal  to  man : 
a  faulty  method  in  either  case,  if  there  really 
be  two  distinct  psychic  worlds. 

The  belief  would  not  be  so  deep-rooted  in 
the  peasant's  mind,  if  facts  had  not  from  time 
to  time  confirmed  it.  But  we  may  assume 


The  Mason-bees 

that,  in  successful  cases,  the  Cats  made  to 
lose  their  bearings  were  young  and  unemanci- 
pated  animals.  With  those  neophytes,  a  drop 
of  milk  is  enough  to  dispel  the  grief  of  exile. 
They  do  not  return  home,  whether  they  have 
been  whirled  in  a  bag  or  not.  People  have 
thought  it  as  well  to  subject  them  to  the  whirl- 
ing operation  by  way  of  an  additional  precau- 
tion; and  the  method  has  received  the  credit 
of  a  success  that  has  nothing  to  do  with  it. 
In  order  to  test  the  method  properly,  it  should 
have  been  tried  on  a  full-grown  Cat,  a  genu- 
ine Tom. 

I  did  in  the  end  get  the  evidence  which  I 
wanted  on  this  point.  Intelligent  and  trust- 
worthy people,  not  given  to  jumping  to  con- 
clusions, have  told  me  that  they  have  tried 
the  trick  of  the  swinging  bag  to  keep  Cats 
from  returning  to  their  homes.  None  of  them 
succeeded  when  the  animal  was  full-grown. 
Though  carried  to  a  great  distance,  into  an- 
other house,  and  subjected  to  a  conscientious 
series  of  revolutions,  the  Cat  always  came 
back.  I  have  in  mind,  more  particularly  a 
destroyer  of  the  Gold-fish  in  a  fountain,  who, 
when  transported  from  Serignan  to  Piolenc, 
according  to  the  time-honoured  method,  re- 


The  Story  of  My  Cats 

turned  to  his  fish ;  who,  when  carried  into  the 
mountain  and  left  in  the  woods,  returned  once 
more.  The  bag  and  the  swinging  round 
proved  of  no  avail;  and  the  miscreant  had  to 
be  put  to  death.  I  have  verified  a  fair  num- 
ber of  similar  instances,  all  under  most  fa- 
vourable conditions.  The  evidence  is  unani- 
mous :  the  revolving  motion  never  keeps  the 
adult  Cat  from  returning  home.  The  popu- 
lar belief,  which  I  found  so  seductive  at  first, 
is  a  country  prejudice,  based  upon  imperfect 
observation.  We  must,  therefore,  abandon 
Darwin's  idea  when  trying  to  explain  the  ho- 
ming of  the  Cat  as  well  as  of  the  Mason-bee. 


123 


CHAPTER  VI 

THE  RED  ANTS 

THE  Pigeon  transported  for  hundreds  of 
miles  is  able  to  find  his  way  back  to  his 
Dove-cot;  the  Swallow,  returning  from  his 
winter  quarters  in  Africa,  crosses  the  sea  and 
once  more  takes  possession  of  the  old  nest. 
What  guides  them  on  these  long  journeys? 
Is  it  sight?  An  observer  of  supreme  intelli- 
gence, one  who,  though  surpassed  by  others  in 
the  knowledge  of  the  stuffed  animal  under  a 
glass  case,  is  almost  unrivalled  in  his  know- 
ledge of  the  live  animal  in  its  wild  state, 
Toussenel,1  the  admirable  writer  of  L'Esprit 
des  betes,  speaks  of  sight  and  metereology  as 
the  Carrier-pigeon's  guides: 

"The  French  bird,"  he  says,  "knows  by  ex- 
perience that  the  cold  weather  comes  from 
the  north,  the  hot  from  the  south,  the  dry 


"Alphonse  Toussenel  (1803-1885),  the  author  of  a  num- 
ber of  interesting  and  valuable  works  on  ornithology. — 
Translator's  Note. 

124 


The  Red  Ants 

from  the  east  and  the  wet  from  the  west.  That 
is  enough  meteorological  knowledge  to  tell 
him  the  cardinal  points  and  to  direct  his  flight. 
The  Pigeon  taken  in  a  closed  basket  from 
Brussels  to  Toulouse  has  certainly  no  means 
of  reading  the  map  of  the  route  with  his  eyes; 
but  no  one  can  prevent  him  from  feeling,  by 
the  warmth  of  the  atmosphere,  that  he  is  pur- 
suing the  road  to  the  south.  When  restored 
to  liberty  at  Toulouse,  he  already  knows  that 
the  direction  which  he  must  follow  to  regain 
his  dove-cot  is  the  direction  of  the  north. 
Therefore,  he  wings  straight  in  that  direction 
and  does  not  stop  until  he  nears  those  latitudes 
where  the  mean  temperature  is  that  of  the 
zone  which  he  inhabits.  If  he  does  not  find 
his  home  at  the  first  onset,  it  is  because  he  has 
borne  a  little  too  much  to  the  right  or  to  the 
left.  In  any  case,  it  takes  him  but  a  few 
hours'  search  in  an  easterly  or  westerly  direc- 
tion to  correct  his  mistake." 

The  explanation  is  a  tempting  one  when 
the  journey  is  taken  north  and  south;  but  it 
does  not  apply  to  a  journey  east  and  west, 
on  the  same  isothermal  line.  Besides,  it  has 
this  defect,  that  it  does  not  admit  of  gen- 
125 


The  Mason-bees 

eralization.  One  cannot  talk  of  sight  and  still 
less  of  the  influence  of  a  change  of  climate 
when  a  Cat  returns  home,  from  one  end  of  a 
town  to  the  other,  threading  his  way  through 
a  labyrinth  of  streets  and  alleys  which  he  sees 
for  the  first  time.  Nor  is  it  sight  that  guides 
my  Mason-bees,  especially  when  they  are  let 
loose  in  the  thick  of  a  wood.  Their  low  flight, 
eight  or  nine  feet  above  the  ground,  does  not 
allow  them  to  take  a  panoramic  view  nor  'to 
gather  the  lie  of  the  land.  What  need  have 
they  of  topography?  Their  hesitation  is 
short-lived:  after  describing  a  few  narrow  cir- 
cles around  the  experimenter,  they  start  in 
the  direction  of  the  nest,  despite  the  cover  of 
the  forest,  despite  the  screen  of  a  tall  chain  of 
hills  which  they  cross  by  mounting  the  slope  at 
no  great  height  from  the  ground.  Sight  en- 
ables them  to  avoid  obstacles,  without  giving 
them  a  general  idea  of  their  road.  Nor  has 
meteorology  aught  to  do  with  the  case:  the 
climate  has  not  varied  in  those  few  miles  of 
transit.  My  Mason-bees  have  not  learnt  from 
any  experiences  of  heat,  cold,  dryness  and 
damp :  an  existence  of  a  few  weeks'  duration 
does  not  allow  of  this.  And,  even  if  they 
knew  all  about  the  four  cardinal  points,  there 
126 


The  Red  Ants 

is  no  difference  in  climate  between  the  spot 
where  their  nest  lies  and  the  spot  at  which 
they  are  released ;  so  that  does  not  help  them 
to  settle  the  direction  in  which  they  are  to 
travel. 

To  explain  these  many  mysteries,  we  are 
driven,  therefore,  to  appeal  to  yet  another 
mystery,  that  is  to  say,  a  special  sense  denied 
to  mankind.  Charles  Darwin,  whose  weighty 
authority  no  one  will  gainsay,  arrives  at  the 
same  conclusion.  To  ask  if  the  animal  be 
not  impressed  by  the  terrestrial  currents,  to 
enquire  if  it  be  not  influenced  by  the  close 
proximity  of  a  magnetic  needle:  what  is  this 
but  the  recognition  of  a  magnetic  sense?  Do 
we  possess  a  similar  faculty?  I  am  speak- 
ing, of  course,  of  the  magnetism  of  the  physi- 
cists and  not  of  the  magnetism  of  the  Mes- 
mers  and  Cagliostros.  Assuredly  we  possess 
nothing  remotely  like  it.  What  need  would 
the  mariner  have  of  a  compass  were  he  him- 
self a  compass? 

And  this  is  what  the  great  scientist  ac- 
knowledges :  a  special  sense,  so  foreign  to  our 
organism  that  we  are  not  able  to  form  a  con- 
ception of  it,  guides  the  Pigeon,  the  Swallow, 
the  Cat,  the  Mason-bee  and  a  host  of  others 
127 


The  Mason-bees 

when  away  from  home.  Whether  this  sense 
be  magnetic  or  no  I  will  not  take  upon  myself 
to  decide ;  I  am  content  to  have  helped,  in  no 
small  degree,  to  establish  its  existence.  A  new 
sense  added  to  our  number:  what  an  acquisi- 
tion, what  a  source  of  progress!  Why  are 
we  deprived  of  it?  It  would  have  been  a 
fine  weapon  and  of  great  service  in  the  strug- 
gle for  life.  If,  as  is  contended,  the  whole 
of  the  animal  kingdom,  including  man,  is  de- 
rived from  a  single  mould,  the  original  cell, 
and  becomes  self-evolved  in  the  course  of 
time,  favouring  the  best-endowed  and  leaving 
the  less  well-endowed  to  perish,  how  comes  it 
that  this  wonderful  sense  is  the  portion  of  a 
humble  few  and  that  it  has  left  no  trace  in 
man,  the  culminating  achievement  of  the  zoo- 
logical progression?  Our  precursors  were 
very  ill-advised  to  let  so  magnificent  an  in- 
heritance go :  it  was  better  worth  keeping  than 
a  vertebra  of  the  coccyx  or  a  hair  of  the 
moustache. 

Does  not  the  fact  that  this-  sense  has  not 

been  handed  down  to  us  point  to  a  flaw  in 

the  pedigree?    I  submit  the  little  problem  to 

the  evolutionists;  and  I  should  much  like  to 

128 


The  Red  Ants 

know  what  their  protoplasm  and  their  nucleus 
have  to  say  to  it. 

Is  this  unknown  sense  localized  in  a  particu- 
lar part  of  the  Wasp  and  the  Bee?  Is  it  ex- 
ercised by  means  of  a  special  organ?  We  im- 
mediately think  of  the  antennae.  The 
antennas  are  what  we  always  fall  back  upon 
when  the  insect's  actions  are  not  quite  clear 
to  us ;  we  gladly  put  down  to  them  whatever 
is  most  necessary  to  our  arguments.  For  that 
matter,  I  had  plenty  of  fairly  good  reasons  for 
suspecting  them  of  containing  the  sense  of  di- 
rection. When  the  Hairy  Ammophila1  is 
searching  for  the  Grey  Worm,  it  is  with 
her  antennae,  those  tiny  fingers  continually 
fumbling  at  the  soil,  that  she  seems  to  recog- 
nize the  presence  of  the  underground  prey. 
Could  not  those  inquisitive  filaments,  which 
seem  to  guide  the  insect  when  hunting,  also 
guide  it  when  travelling?  This  remained  to 
be  seen;  and  I  did  see. 

I  took  some  Mason-bees  and  amputated 
their  antennae  with  the  scissors,  as  closely  as 

1A  Sand-wasp,  who  hunts  the  Grey  Worm,  or  Cater- 
pillar of  the  Turnip-moth,  to  serve  as  food  for  her  grubs. 
For   other  varieties  of   the  Ammophila,   cf.  Insect  Life: 
chap.  xv. — Translator's  Note. 
129 


The  Mason-bees 

I  could.  These  maimed  ones  were  then  car- 
ried to  a  distance  and  released.  They  returned 
to  the  nest  with  as  little  difficulty  as  the  others. 
I  once  experimented  in  the  same  way  with  the 
largest  of  our  Cerceres  (Cercerls  tubercu- 
lata)  j1  and  the  Weevil-huntress  returned  to 
her  galleries.  This  rids  us  of  one  hypothesis : 
the  sense  of  direction  is  not  exercised  by  the 
antennae.  Then  where  is  its  seat?  I  do  not 
know. 

What  I  do  know  is  that  the  Mason-bees 
without  antennae,  though  they  go  back  to  the 
cells,  do  not  resume  work.  They  persist  in 
flying  in  front  of  their  masonry,  they  alight 
on  the  clay  cup,  they  perch  on  the  rim  of  the 
cell  and  there,  seemingly  pensive  and  forlorn, 
stand  for  a  long  time  contemplating  the  work 
which  will  never  be  finished;  they  go  off,  they 
come  back,  they  drive  away  any  importunate 
neighbour,  but  they  fetch  and  carry  no  more 
honey  or  mortar.  The  next  day,  they  do  not 
appear.  Deprived  of  her  tools,  the  worker 
loses  all  heart  in  her  task.  When  the  Mason- 
bee  is  building,  the  antennae  are  constantly 

'Another  Hunting-wasp,  who  feeds  her  young  on 
Weevils.  Cf.  Insect  Life:  chaps,  iv.  and  v. — Translator's 
Note. 

130 


The  Red  Ants 

feeling,  fumbling  and  exploring,  superintend- 
ing, as  it  were,  the  finishing  touches  given  to 
the  work.  They  are  her  instruments  of  pre- 
cision ;  they  represent  the  builder's  compasses, 
square,  level  and  plumb-line. 

Hitherto,  my  experiments  have  been  con- 
fined to  the  females,  who  are  much  more  faith- 
ful to  the  nest  by  virtue  of  their  maternal  re- 
sponsibilities. What  would  the  males  do  if 
they  were  taken  from  home  ?  I  have  no  great 
confidence  in  these  swains  who,  for  a  few 
days,  form  a  tumultuous  throng  outside  the 
nests,  wait  for  the  females  to  emerge,  quarrel 
for  their  possession,  amid  endless  brawls,  and 
then  disappear  when  the  works  are  in  full 
swing.  What  care  they,  I  ask  myself,  about 
returning  to  the  natal  nest  rather  than  settling 
elsewhere,  provided  that  they  find  some  recipi- 
ent for  their  amatory  declarations?  I  was 
mistaken :  the  males  do  return  to  the  nest.  It 
is  true  that,  in  view  of  their  lack  of  strength, 
I  did  not  subject  them  to  a  long  journey :  about 
half  a  mile  or  so.  Nevertheless,  this  repre- 
sented to  them  a  distant  expedition,  an  un- 
known country;  for  I  do  not  see  them  go  on 
long  excursions.  By  day,  they  visit  the  nests 
or  the  flowers  in  the  garden;  at  night,  they 
131 


The  Mason-bees 

take  refuge  in  the  old  galleries  or  in  the  inter- 
stices of  the  stone-heaps  in  the  harmas. 

The  same  nests  are  frequented  by  two 
Osmia-bees  (Osmia  tricorms  and  Osmia 
Latreillii) ,  who  build  their  cells  in  the  galler- 
ies left  at  their  disposal  by  the  Chalicodomae. 
The  most  numerous  is  the  first,  the  Three- 
horned  Osmia.  It  was  a  splendid  opportunity 
to  try  and  discover  to  what  extent  the  sense 
of  direction  may  be  regarded  as  general  in 
the  Bees  and  Wasps;  and  I  took  advantage 
of  it.  Well,  the  Osmiae  (Osmia  tricorms), 
both  male  and  female,  can  find  their  way  back 
to  the  nest.  My  experiments  were  made  very 
quickly,  with  small  numbers  and  over  short 
distances;  but  the  results  agreed  so  closely 
with  the  others  that  I  was  convinced.  All 
told,  the  return  to  the  nest,  including  my 
earlier  attempts,  was  verified  in  the  case  of 
four  species:  the  Chalicodoma  of  the  Sheds, 
the  Chalicodoma  of  the  Walls,  the  Three- 
horned  Osmia  and  the  Warted  Cerceris 
(Cerceris  tuberculata)  *  Shall  I  generalize 
without  reserve  and  allow  all  the  Hymenop- 
tera2  this  faculty  of  finding  their  way  in  un- 

*Insect  Life:  chap.  xii. — Translator's  Note. 

*The  Hymenoptera  are  an  order  of  insects  having  four 

132 


The  Red  Ants 

known  country?  I  shall  do  nothing  of  the 
kind ;  for  here,  to  my  knowledge,  is  a  contra- 
dictory and  very  significant  result. 

Among  the  treasures  of  my  harmas- 
laboratory,  I  place  in  the  first  rank  an  Ant- 
hill of  Polyergus  rufescens,  the  celebrated 
Red  Ant,  the  slave-hunting  Amazon.  Un- 
able to  rear  her  family,  incapable  of  seeking 
her  food,  of  taking  it  even  when  it  is  within 
her  reach,  she  needs  servants  who  feed  her 
and  undertake  the  duties  of  housekeeping. 
The  Red  Ants  make  a  practice  of  stealing 
children  to  wait  on  the  community.  They  ran- 
sack the  neighbouring  Ant-hills,  the  home  of 
a  different  species;  they  carry  away  nymphs, 
which  soon  attain  maturity  in  the  strange 
house  and  become  willing  and  industrious 
servants. 

When  the  hot  weather  of  June  and  July 
sets  in,  I  often  see  the  Amazons  leave  their 
barracks  of  an  afternoon  and  start  on  an  ex- 
pedition. The  column  measures  five  or  six 
yards  in  length.  If  nothing  worthy  of  atten- 
tion be  met  upon  the  road,  the  ranks  are  fairly 
well  maintained ;  but,  at  the  first  suspicion  of 

membranous  wings  and  include  the  Bees,  Wasps,  Ants, 
Saw-flies  and  Ichneumon-flies. — Translator's  Note. 

133 


The  Mason-bees 

an  Ant-hill,  the  vanguard  halts  and  deploys 
in  a  swarming  throng,  which  is  increased  by 
the  others  as  they  come  up  hurriedly.  Scouts 
are  sent  out;  the  Amazons  recognize  that  they 
are  on  a  wrong  track;  and  the  column  forms 
again.  It  resumes  its  march,  crosses  the 
garden-paths,  disappears  from  sight  in  the 
grass,  reappears  farther  on,  threads  its  way 
through  the  heaps  of  dead  leaves,  comes  out 
again  and  continues  its  search.  At  last,  a  nest 
of  Black  Ants  is  discovered.  The  Red  Ants 
hasten  down  to  the  dormitories  where  the 
nymphs  lie  and  soon  emerge  with  their  booty. 
Then  we  have,  at  the  gates  of  the  under- 
ground city,  a  bewildering  scrimmage  between 
the  defending  blacks  and  the  attacking  reds. 
The  struggle  is  too  unequal  to  remain  inde- 
cisive. Victory  falls  to  the  reds,  who  race 
back  to  their  abode,  each  with  her  prize,  a 
swaddled  nymph,  dangling  from  her  mandi- 
bles. The  reader  who  is  not  acquainted  with 
these  slave-raiding  habits  would  be  greatly  in- 
terested in  the  story  of  the  Amazons.  I  re- 
linquish it,  with  much  regret :  it  would  take  us 
too  far  from  our  subject,  namely,  the  return 
to  the  nest. 

The    distance    covered    by    the    nymph- 
134 


The  Red  Ants 

stealing  column  varies:  it  all  depends  on 
whether  Black  Ants  are  plentiful  in  the  neigh- 
bourhood. At  times,  ten  or  twenty  yards  suf- 
fice; at  others,  it  requires  fifty,  a  hundred  or 
more.  I  once  saw  the  expedition  go  beyond 
the  garden.  The  Amazons  scaled  the  sur- 
rounding wall,  which  was  thirteen  feet  high 
at  that  point,  climbed  over  it  and  went  on 
a  little  farther,  into  a  corn-field.  As  for  the 
route  taken,  this  is  a  matter  of  indifference 
to  the  marching  column.  Bare  ground,  thick 
grass,  a  heap  of  dead  leaves  or  stones,  brick- 
work, a  clump  of  shrubs :  all  are  crossed  with- 
out any  marked  preference  for  one  sort  of 
road  rather  than  another. 

What  is  rigidly  fixed  is  the  path  home, 
which  follows  the  outward  track  in  all  its 
windings  and  all  its  crossings,  however  diffi- 
cult. Laden  with  their  plunder,  the  Red  Ants 
return  to  the  nest  by  the  same  road,  often  an 
exceedingly  complicated  one,  which  the  exigen- 
cies of  the  chase  compelled  them  to  take 
originally.  They  repass  each  spot  which  they 
passed  at  first;  and  this  is  to  them  a  matter 
of  such  imperative  necessity  that  no  additional 
fatigue  nor  even  the  gravest  danger  can  make 
them  alter  the  track. 

135 


The  Mason-bees 

Let  us  suppose  that  they  have  crossed  a 
thick  heap  of  dead  leaves,  representing  to 
them  a  path  beset  with  yawning  gulfs,  where 
every  moment  some  one  falls,  where  many 
are  exhausted  as  they  struggle  out  of  the  hol- 
lows and  reach  the  heights  by  means  of  sway- 
ing bridges,  emerging  at  last  from  the  laby- 
rinth of  lanes.  No  matter:  on  their  return, 
they  will  not  fail,  though  weighed  down  with 
their  burden,  once  more  to  struggle  through 
that  weary  maze.  To  avoid  all  this  fatigue, 
they  would  have  but  to  swerve  slightly  from 
the  original  path,  for  the  good,  smooth  road 
is  there,  hardly  a  step  away.  This  little  devi- 
ation never  occurs  to  them. 

I  came  upon  them  one  day  when  they  were 
on  one  of  their  raids.  They  were  marching 
along  the  inner  edge  of  the  stone-work  of  the 
garden-pond,  where  I  have  replaced  the  old 
batrachians  by  a  colony  of  Gold-fish.  The 
wind  was  blowing  very  hard  from  the  north 
and,  taking  the  column  in  flank,  sent  whole 
rows  of  the  Ants  flying  into  the  water.  The 
fish  hurried  up ;  they  watched  the  performance 
and  gobbled  up  the  drowning  insects.  It  was 
a  difficult  bit;  and  the  column  was  decimated 
before  it  had  passed.  I  expected  to  see  the 
136 


The  Red  Ants 

return  journey  made  by  another  road,  which 
would  wind  round  and  avoid  the  fatal  cliff. 
Not  at  all.  The  nymph-laden  band  resumed 
the  parlous  path  and  the  Gold-fish  received 
a  double  windfall :  the  Ants  and  their  prizes. 
Rather  than  alter  its  track,  the  column  was 
decimated  a  second  time. 

It  is  not  easy  to  find  the  way  home  again 
after  a  distant  expedition,  during  which  there 
have  been  various  sorties,  nearly  always  by 
different  paths;  and  this  difficulty  makes  it 
absolutely  necessary  for  the  Amazons  to  re- 
turn by  the  same  road  by  which  they  went. 
The  insect  has  no  choice  of  route,  if  it  would 
not  be  lost  on  the  way :  it  must  come  back  by 
the  track  which  it  knows  and  which  it  has 
lately  travelled.  The  Processionary  Caterpil- 
lars, when  they  leave  their  nest  and  go  to  an- 
other branch,  on  another  tree,  in  search  of  a 
type  of  leaf  more  to  their  taste,  carpet  the 
course  with  silk  and  are  able  to  return  home 
by  following  the  threads  stretched  along  their 
road.  This  is  the  most  elementary  method 
open  to  the  insect  liable  to  stray  on  its  ex- 
cursions :  a  silken  path  brings  it  home  again. 
The  Processionaries,  with  their  unsophisti- 
cated traffic-laws,  are  very  different  from  the 
137 


The  Mason-bees 

Mason-bees  and  others,  who  have  a  special 
sense  to  guide  them. 

The  Amazon,  though  belonging  to  the 
Hymenopteron  clan,  herself  possesses  rather 
limited  homing-faculties,  as  witness  her  com- 
pulsory return  by  her  former  trail.  Can  she 
imitate,  to  a  certain  extent,  the  Procession- 
aries'  method,  that  is  to  say,  does  she  leave, 
along  the  road  traversed,  not  a  series  of  con- 
ducting threads,  for  she  is  not  equipped  for 
that  work,  but  some  odorous  emanation,  for 
instance,  some  formic  scent,  which  would 
allow  her  to  guide  herself  by  means  of  the 
olfactory  sense?  This  view  is  pretty  gen- 
erally accepted.  The  Ants,  people  say,  are 
guided  by  the  sense  of  smell;  and  this  sense 
of  smell  appears  to  have  its  seat  in  the 
antennae,  which  we  see  in  continual  palpita- 
tion. It  is  doubtless  very  reprehensible,  but 
I  must  admit  that  the  theory  does  not  inspire 
me  with  overwhelming  enthusiasm.  In  the 
first  place,  I  have  my  suspicions  about  a  sense 
of  smell  seated  in  the  antennas :  I  have  given 
my  reasons  before ;  and,  next,  I  hope  to  prove 
by  experiment  that  the  Red  Ants  are  not 
guided  by  a  scent  of  any  kind. 

To  lie  in  wait  for  my  Amazons,  for  whole 
138 


The  Red  Ants 

afternoons  on  end,  often  unsuccessfully, 
meant  taking  up  too  much  of  my  time.  I 
engaged  an  assistant  whose  hours  were  not 
so  much  occupied  as  mine.  It  was  my  grand- 
daughter Lucie,  a  little  rogue  who  liked  to 
hear  my  stones  of  the  Ants.  She  had  been 
present  at  the  great  battle  between  the  reds 
and  blacks  and  was  much  impressed  by  the 
rape  of  the  long-clothes  babies.  Well-coached 
in  her  exalted  functions,  very  proud  of  al- 
ready serving  that  august  lady,  Science,  my 
little  Lucie  would  wander  about  the  garden, 
when  the  weather  seemed  propitious,  and  keep 
an  eye  on  the  Red  Ants,  having  been  commis- 
sioned to  reconnoitre  carefully  the  road  to  the 
pillaged  Ant-hill.  She  had  given  proof  of  her 
zeal;  I  could  rely  upon  it. 

One  day,  while  I  was  spinning  out  my  daily 
quota  of  prose,  there  came  a  banging  at  my 
study-door : 

"It's  I,  Lucie  !  Come  quick :  the  reds  have 
gone  into  the  blacks'  house.  Come  quick!" 

"And  do  you  know  the  road  they  took?" 

"Yes,  I  marked  it." 

"What!  Marked  it?  And  how?" 

"I  did  what  Hop-o'-My-Thumb  did:  I 
scattered  little  white  stones  along  the  road." 

139 


The  Mason-bees 

I  hurried  out.  Things  had  happened  as  my 
six-year-old  colleague  said.  Lucie  had  se- 
cured her  provision  of  pebbles  in  advance 
and,  on  seeing  the  Amazon  regiment  leave 
barracks,  had  followed  them  step  by  step  and 
placed  her  stones  at  intervals  along  the  road 
covered.  The  Ants  had  made  their  raid  and 
were  beginning  to  return  along  the  track  of 
tell-tale  pebbles.  The  distance  to  the  nest  was 
about  a  hundred  paces,  which  gave  me  time 
to  make  preparations  for  an  experiment  pre- 
viously contemplated. 

I  take  a  big  broom  and  sweep  the  track  for 
about  a  yard  across.  The  dusty  particles  on 
the  surface  are  thus  removed  and  replaced  by 
others.  If  they  were  tainted  with  any  odor- 
ous effluvia,  their  absence  will  throw  the  Ants 
off  the  track.  I  divide  the  road,  in  this  way, 
at  four  different  points,  a  few  feet  apart. 

The  column  arrives  at  the  first  section. 
The  hesitation  of  the  Ants  is  evident.  Some 
recede  and  then  return,  only  to  recede  once 
more;  others  wander  along  the  edge  of  the 
cutting;  others  disperse  sideways  and  seem 
to  be  trying  to  skirt  the  unknown  country. 
The  head  of  the  column,  at  first  closed  up  to 
a  width  of  a  foot  or  so,  now  scatters  to  three 
140 


The  Red  Ants 

or  four  yards.  But  fresh  arrivals  gather  in 
their  numbers  before  the  obstacle ;  they  form 
a  mighty  array,  an  undecided  horde.  At  last, 
a  few  Ants  venture  into  the  swept  zone  and 
others  follow,  while  a  few  have  meantime 
gone  ahead  and  recovered  the  track  by  a  cir- 
cuitous route.  At  the  other  cuttings,  there 
are  the  same  halts,  the  same  hesitations;  ne- 
vertheless, they  are  crossed,  either  in  a 
straight  line  or  by  going  round.  In  spite  of 
my  snares,  the  Ants  manage  to  return  to  the 
nest;  and  that  by  way  of  the  little  stones. 

The  result  of  the  experiment  seems  to 
argue  in  favour  of  the  sense  of  smell.  Four 
times  over,  there  are  manifest  hesitations  wher- 
ever the  road  is  swept.  Though  the  return 
takes  place,  nevertheless,  along  the  original 
track,  this  may  be  due  to  the  uneven  work  of 
the  broom,  which  has  left  certain  particles  of 
the  scented  dust  in  position.  The  Ants  who 
went  round  the  cleared  portion  may  have  been 
guided  by  the  sweepings  removed  to  either 
side.  Before,  therefore,  pronouncing  judg- 
ment for  or  against  the  sense  of  smell,  it  were 
well  to  renew  the  experiment  under  better 
conditions  and  to  remove  everything  contain- 
ing a  vestige  of  scent. 
141 


The  Mason-bees 

A  few  days  later,  when  I  have  definitely  de- 
cided on  my  plan,  Lucie  resumes  her  watch 
and  soon  comes  to  tell  me  of  a  sortie.  I  was 
counting  on  it,  for  the  Amazons  rarely  miss 
an  expedition  during  the  hot  and  sultry  after- 
noons of  June  and  July,  especially  when 
the  weather  threatens  storm.  Hop-o'-My- 
Thumb's  pebbles  once  more  mark  out  the 
road,  on  which  I  choose  the  point  best-suited 
to  my  schemes. 

A  garden-hose  is  fixed  to  one  of  the  feeders 
of  the  pond;  the  sluice  is  opened;  and  the 
Ants'  path  is  cut  by  a  continuous  torrent,  two 
or  three  feet  wide  and  of  unlimited  length. 
The  sheet  of  water  flows  swiftly  and  plenti- 
fully at  first,  so  as  to  wash  the  ground  well 
and  remove  anything  that  may  possess  a 
scent.  This  thorough  washing  lasts  for  nearly 
a  quarter  of  an  hour.  Then,  when  the  Ants 
draw  near,  returning  from  the  plunder,  I  let 
the  water  flow  more  slowly  and  reduce  its 
depth,  so  as  not  to  overtax  the  strength  of  the 
insects.  Now  we  have  an  obstacle  which  the 
Amazons  must  surmount,  if  it  is  absolutely 
necessary  for  them  to  follow  the  first  trail. 

This  time,  the  hesitation  lasts  long  and  the 
stragglers  have  time  to  come  up  with  the  head 
142 


The  Red  Ants 

of  the  column.  Nevertheless,  an  attempt  is 
made  to  cross  the  torrent  by  means  of  a  few 
bits  of  gravel  projecting  above  the  water; 
then,  failing  to  find  bottom,  the  more  reck- 
less of  the  Ants  are  swept  off  their  feet  and, 
without  loosing  hold  of  their  prizes,  drift 
away,  land  on  some  shoal,  regain  the  bank 
and  renew  their  search  for  a  ford.  A  few 
straws  borne  on  the  waters  stop  and  become 
so  many  shaky  bridges,  on  which  the  Ants 
climb.  Dry  olive-leaves  are  converted  into 
rafts,  each  with  its  load  of  passengers.  The 
more  venturesome,  partly  by  their  own  ef- 
forts, partly  by  good  luck,  reach  the  opposite 
bank  without  adventitious  aid.  I  see  some 
who,  dragged  by  the  current  to  one  or  the 
other  bank,  two  or  three  yards  off,  seem  very 
much  concerned  as  to  what  they  shall  do  next. 
Amid  this  disorder,  amid  the  dangers  of 
drowning,  not  one  lets  go  her  booty.  She 
would  not  dream  of  doing  so:  death  sooner 
than  that !  In  a  word,  the  torrent  is  crossed 
somehow  or  other  along  the  regular  track. 

The  scent  of  the  road  cannot  be  the  cause 
of  this,  it  seems  to  me,  for  the  torrent  not 
only  washed  the  ground  some  time  before- 
hand, but  also  pours  fresh  water  on  it  all  the 
143 


The  Mason-bees 

time  that  the  crossing  is  taking  place.  Let 
us  now  see  what  will  happen  when  the  formic 
scent,  if  there  really  be  one  on  the  trail,  is 
replaced  by  another,  much  stronger  odour,  one 
perceptible  to  our  own  sense  of  smell,  which 
the  first  is  not,  at  least  not  under  present 
conditions. 

I  wait  for  a  third  sortie  and,  at  one  point 
in  the  road  taken  by  the  Ants,  rub  the  ground 
with  some  handfuls  of  freshly-gathered  mint. 
I  cover  the  track,  a  little  farther  on,  with  the 
leaves  of  the  same  plant.  The  Ants,  on  their 
return,  cross  the  section  over  which  the  mint 
was  rubbed  without  apparently  giving  it  a 
thought ;  they  hesitate  in  front  of  the  section 
heaped  up  with  leaves  and  then  go  straight 
on. 

After  these  two  experiments,  first  with  the 
torrent  of  water  which  washes  away  all  trace 
of  smell  from  the  ground  and  then  with  the 
mint  which  changes  the  smell,  I  think  that  we 
are  no  longer  at  liberty  to  quote  scent  as  the 
guide  of  the  Ants  that  return  to  the  nest  by 
the  road  which  they  took  at  starting.  Further 
tests  will  tell  us  more  about  it. 

Without  interfering  with  the  soil,  I  now 
lay  across  the  track  some  large  sheets  of 
144 


The  Red  Ants 

paper,  newspapers,  keeping  them  in  position 
with  a  few  small  stones.  In  front  of  this  car- 
pet, which  completely  alters  the  appearance 
of  the  road,  without  removing  any  sort  of 
scent  that  it  may  possess,  the  Ants  hesitate 
even  longer  than  before  any  of  my  other 
snares,  including  the  torrent.  They  are  com- 
pelled to  make  manifold  attempts,  reconnais- 
sances to  right  and  left,  forward  movements 
and  repeated  retreats,  before  venturing  alto- 
gether into  the  unknown  zone.  The  paper 
straits  are  crossed  at  last  and  the  march  re- 
sumed as  usual. 

Another  ambush  awaits  the  Amazons  some 
distance  farther  on.  I  have  divided  the  track 
by  a  thin  layer  of  yellow  sand,  the  ground 
itself  being  grey.  This  change  of  colour  alone 
is  enough  for  a  moment  to  disconcert  the 
Ants,  who  again  hesitate  in  the  same  way, 
though  not  for  so  long,  as  they  did  before  the 
paper.  Eventually,  this  obstacle  is  overcome 
like  the  others. 

As  neither  the  stretch  of  sand  nor  the 
stretch  of  paper  got  rid  of  any  scented  effluvia 
with  which  the  trail  may  have  been  impreg- 
nated, it  is  patent  that,  as  the  Ants  hesitated 
and  stopped  in  the  same  way  as  before,  they 
145 


The  Mason-bees 

find  their  way  not  by  sense  of  smell,  but  really 
(and  truly  by  sense  of  sight;  for,  every  time 
that  I  alter  the  appearance  of  the  track  in 
any  way  whatever — whether  by  my  destruc- 
tive broom,  my  streaming  water,  my  green 
mint,  my  paper  carpet  or  my  golden  sand — 
the  returning  column  calls  a  halt,  hesitates 
and  attempts  to  account  for  the  changes  that 
have  taken  place.  Yes,  it  is  sight,  but  a  very 
dull  sight,  whose  horizon  is  altered  by  the 
shifting  of  a  few  bits  of  gravel.  To  this  short 
sight,  a  strip  of  paper,  a  bed  of  mint-leaves, 
a  layer  of  yellow  sand,  a  stream  of  water,  a 
furrow  made  by  the  broom,  or  even  lesser 
modifications  are  enough  to  transform  the 
landscape;  and  the  regiment,  eager  to  reach 
home  as  fast  as  it  can  with  its  loot,  halts  un- 
easily on  beholding  this  unfamiliar  scenery. 
If  the  doubtful  zones  are  at  length  passed,  it 
is  due  to  the  fact  that  fresh  attempts  are  con- 
stantly being  made  to  cross  the  doctored  strips 
and  that  at  last  a  few  Ants  recognize  well- 
known  spots  beyond  them.  The  others,  rely- 
ing on  their  clearer-sighted  sisters,  follow. 

Sight  would  not  be  enough,  if  the  Amazon 
had  not  also  at  her  service  a  correct  memory 
for  places.    The  memory  of  an  Ant !    What 
146 


The  Red  Ants 

can  that  be  ?  In  what  does  it  resemble  ours  ? 
I  have  no  answers  to  these  questions;  but  a 
few  words  will  enable  me  to  prove  that  the 
insect  has  a  very  exact  and  persistent  recollec- 
tion of  places  which  it  has  once  visited.  Here 
is  something  which  I  have  often  witnessed. 
It  sometimes  happens  that  the  plundered  Ant- 
hill offers  the  Amazons  a  richer  spoil  than 
the  invading  column  is  able  to  carry  away. 
Or,  again,  the  region  visited  is  rich  in  Ant- 
hills. Another  raid  is  necessary,  to  exploit 
the  site  thoroughly.  In  such  cases,  a  second 
expedition  takes  place,  sometimes  on  the  next 
day,  sometimes  two  or  three  days  later.  This 
time,  the  column  does  no  reconnoitring  on 
the  way :  it  goes  straight  to  the  spot  known  to 
abound  in  nymphs  and  travels  by  the  identical 
path  which  it  followed  before.  It  has  some- 
times happened  that  I  have  marked  with  small 
stones,  for  a  distance  of  twenty  yards,  the 
road  pursued  a  couple  of  days  earlier  and 
have  then  found  the  Amazons  proceeding  by 
the  same  route,  stone  by  stone : 

"They  will  go  first  here  and  then  there," 
I  said,  according  to  the  position  of  the  guide- 
stones. 

And  they  would,  in  fact,  go  first  here  and 

147 


The  Mason-bees 

then  there,  skirting  my  line  of  pebbles,  with- 
out any  noticeable  deviation. 

Can  one  believe  that  odoriferous  emana- 
tions diffused  along  the  route  are  going  to  last 
for  several  days?  No  one  would  dare  to 
suggest  it.  It  must,  therefore,  be  sight  that 
directs  the  Amazons,  sight  assisted  by  its  mem- 
ory for  places.  And  this  memory  is  tenacious 
enough  to  retain  the  impression  until  the  next 
day  and  later;  it  is  scrupulously  faithful,  for 
it  guides  the  column  by  the  same  path  as  on 
the  day  before,  across  the  thousand  irregulari- 
ties of  the  ground. 

How  will  the  Amazon  behave  when  the  lo- 
cality is  unknown  to  her?  Apart  from  topo- 
graphical memory,  which  cannot  serve  her 
here,  the  region  in  which  I  imagine  her  being 
still  unexplored,  does  the  Ant  possess  the 
Mason-bee's  sense  of  direction,  at  least  within 
modest  limits,  and  is  she  able  thus  to  regain 
her  Ant-hill  or  her  marching  column? 

The  different  parts  of  the  garden  are  not 
all  visited  by  the  marauding  legions  to  the 
same  extent:  the  north  side  is  exploited  by 
preference,  doubtless  because  the  forays  in 
that  direction  are  more  productive.  The 
Amazons,  therefore,  generally  direct  their 
148 


The  Red  Ants 

troops  north  of  their  barracks;  I  seldom  see 
them  in  the  south.  This  part  of  the  garden 
is,  if  not  wholly  unknown,  at  least  much  less 
familiar  to  them  than  the  other.  Having  said 
that,  let  us  observe  the  conduct  of  the  strayed 
Ant. 

I  take  up  my  position  near  the  Ant-hill; 
and,  when  the  column  returns  from  the  slave- 
raid,  I  force  an  Ant  to  step  on  a  leaf  which  I 
hold  out  to  her.  Without  touching  her,  I 
carry  her  two  or  three  paces  away  from  her 
regiment :  no  more  than  that,  but  in  a  south- 
erly direction.  It  is  enough  to  put  her  astray, 
to  make  her  lose  her  bearings  entirely.  I  see 
the  Amazon,  now  replaced  on  the  ground, 
wander  about  at  random,  still,  I  need  hardly 
say,  with  her  booty  in  her  mandibles;  I  see 
her  hurry  away  from  her  comrades,  thinking 
that  she  is  rejoining  them;  I  see  her  retrace 
her  steps,  turn  aside  again,  try  to  the  right, 
try  to  the  left  and  grope  in  a  host  of  direc- 
tions, without  succeeding  in  finding  her  where- 
abouts. The  pugnacious,  strong-jawed  slave- 
hunter  is  utterly  lost  two  steps  away  from  her 
party.  I  have  in  mind  certain  strays  who, 
after  half  an  hour's  searching,  had  not  suc- 
ceeded in  recovering  the  route  and  were  go- 
149 


The  Mason-bees 

ing  farther  and  farther  from  it,  still  carrying 
the  nymph  in  their  teeth.  What  became  of 
them?  What  did  they  do  with  their  spoil? 
I  had  not  the  patience  to  follow  those  dull- 
witted  marauders  to  the  end. 

Let  us  repeat  the  experiment,  but  place 
the  Amazon  to  the  north.  After  more  or  less 
prolonged  hesitations,  after  a  search  now 
in  this  direction,  now  in  that,  the  Ant  suc- 
ceeds in  finding  her  column.  She  knows  the 
locality. 

Here,  of  a  surety,  is  a  Hymenopteron  de- 
prived of  that  sense  of  direction  which  other 
Hymenoptera  enjoy.  She  has  in  her  favour 
a  memory  for  places  and  nothing  more.  A 
deviation  amounting  to  two  or  three  of  our 
strides  is  enough  to  make  her  lose  her  way 
and  to  keep  her  from  returning  to  her  people, 
whereas  miles  across  unknown  country  will 
not  foil  the  Mason-bee.  I  expressed  my  sur- 
prise, just  now,  that  man  was  deprived  of  a 
wonderful  sense  wherewith  certain  animals  are 
endowed.  The  enormous  distance  between 
the  two  things  compared  might  furnish  mat- 
ter for  discussion.  In  the  present  case,  the 
distance  no  longer  exists :  we  have  to  do  with 
two  insects  very  near  akin,  two  Hymenoptera. 
150 


The  Red  Ants 

Why,  if  they  issue  from  the  same  mould,  has 
one  a  sense  which  the  other  has  not,  an  ad- 
ditional sense,  constituting  a  much  more  over- 
powering factor  than  the  structural  details? 
I  will  wait  until  the  evolutionists  condescend 
to  give  me  a  valid  reason. 

To  return  to  this  memory  for  places  whose 
tenacity  and  fidelity  I  have  just  recognized: 
to  what  degree  does  it  consent  to  retain  im- 
pressions? Does  the  Amazon  require  re- 
peated journeys  in  order  to  learn  her  geogra- 
phy, or  is  a  single  expedition  enough  for 
her?  Are  the  line  followed  and  the  places 
visited  engraved  on  her  memory  from  the 
first?  The  Red  Ant  does  not  lend  herself  to 
the  tests  that  might  furnish  the  reply :  the  ex- 
perimenter is  unable  to  decide  whether  the 
path  followed  by  the  expeditionary  column 
is  being  covered  for  the  first  time,  nor  is  it  in 
his  power  to  compel  the  legion  to  adopt  this 
or  that  different  road.  When  the  Amazons 
go  out  to  plunder  the  Ant-hills,  they  take  the 
direction  which  they  please;  and  we  are  not 
allowed  to  interfere  with  their  march.  Let 
us  turn  to  other  Hymenoptera  for  informa- 
tion. 

I  select  the  Pompili,  whose  habits  we  shall 
151 


The  Mason-bees 

study  In  detail  in  a  later  chapter.1  They  are 
hunters  of  Spiders  and  diggers  of  burrows. 
The  game,  the  food  of  the  coming  larva,  is 
first  caught  and  paralyzed;  the  home  is  ex- 
cavated afterwards.  As  the  heavy  prey  would 
be  a  grave  encumbrance  to  the  Wasp  in  search 
of  a  convenient  site,  the  Spider  is  placed  high 
up,  on  a  tuft  of  grass  or  brushwood,  out  of  the 
reach  of  marauders,  especially  Ants,  who 
might  damage  the  precious  morsel  in  the  law- 
ful owner's  absence.  After  fixing  her  booty 
on  the  verdant  pinnacle,  the  Pompilus  casts 
around  for  a  favourable  spot  and  digs  her 
burrow.  During  the  process  of  excavation, 
she  returns  from  time  to  time  to  her  Spider; 
she  nibbles  at  the  prize,  feels  it,  touches  here 
and  there,  as  though  taking  stock  of  its  plump- 
ness and  congratulating  herself  on  the  plenti- 
ful provender;  then  she  returns  to  her  bur- 
row and  goes  on  digging.  Should  anything 
alarm  or  distress  her,  she  does  not  merely  in- 
spect her  Spider:  she  also  brings  her  a  little 
closer  to  her  work-yard,  but  never  fails  to 
lay  her  on  the  top  of  a  tuft  of  verdure.  These 

1For  the  Wasp  known  as  the  Pompilus,  or  Ringed 
Calicurgus,  cf.  The  Life  and  Love  of  the  Insect:  chap, 
xii. — Translator's  Note. 

152 


The  Red  Ants 

are  the  manoeuvres  of  which  I  can  avail  myself 
to  gauge  the  elasticity  of  the  Wasp's  memory. 
While  the  Pompilus  is  at  work  upon  the 
burrow,  I  seize  the  prey  and  place  it  in  an  ex- 
posed spot,  half  a  yard  away  from  its  original 
position.  The  Pompilus  soon  leaves  the  hole 
to  enquire  after  her  booty  and  goes  straight 
to  the  spot  where  she  left  it.  This  sureness 
of  direction,  this  faithful  memory  for  places 
can  be  explained  by  repeated  previous  visits. 
I  know  nothing  of  what  has  happened  before- 
hand. Let  us  take  no  notice  of  this  first  ex- 
pedition; the  others  will  be  more  conclusive. 
For  the  moment,  the  Pompilus,  without  the 
least  hesitation,  finds  the  tuft  of  grass  whereon 
her  prey  was  lying.  Then  come  marches  and 
counter-marches  upon  that  tuft,  minute  ex- 
plorations and  frequent  returns  to  the  exact 
spot  where  the  Spider  was  deposited.  At  last, 
convinced  that  the  prize  is  no  longer  there,  the 
Wasp  makes  a  leisurely  survey  of  the  neigh- 
bourhood, feeling  the  ground  with  her 
antennae  as  she  goes.  The  Spider  is  descried 
in  the  exposed  spot  where  I  had  placed  her. 
Surprise  on  the  part  of  the  Pompilus,  who 
goes  forward  and  then  suddenly  steps  back 
with  a  start : 

153 


The  Mason-bees 

"Is  it  alive?"  she  seems  to  ask.  "Is  it 
dead?  Is  it  really  my  Spider?  Let  us  be 
wary!" 

The  hesitation  does  not  last  long :  the  hunt- 
ress grabs  her  victim,  drags  her  backwards 
and  places  her,  still  high  up,  on  a  second  tuft 
of  herbage,  two  or  three  steps  away  from 
the  first.  She  then  goes  back  to  the  burrow 
and  digs  for  a  while.  For  the  second  time,  I 
remove  the  Spider  and  lay  her  at  some  dis- 
tance, on  the  bare  ground.  This  is  the  mo- 
ment to  judge  of  the  Wasp's  memory.  Two 
tufts  of  grass  have  served  as  temporary 
resting-places  for  the  game.  The  first,  to 
which  she  returned  with  such  precision,  the 
Wasp  may  have  learnt  to  know  by  a  more  or 
less  thorough  examination,  by  reiterated  visits 
that  escaped  my  eye ;  but  the  second  has  cert- 
ainly made  but  a  slight  impression  on  her 
memory.  She  adopted  it  without  any  studied 
choice;  she  stopped  there  just  long  enough  to 
hoist  her  Spider  to  the  top;  she  saw  it  for 
the  first  time  and  saw  it  hurriedly,  in  passing. 
Is  that  rapid  glance  enough  to  provide  an 
exact  recollection?  Besides,  there  are  now  two 
localities  to  be  muddled  in  the  insect's  mem- 
ory: the  first  shelf  may  easily  be  confused 
i54 


The  Red  Ants 

with  the  second.  To  which  will  the  Pompilus 
betake  herself? 

We  shall  soon  find  out:  here  she  comes, 
leaving  the  burrow  to  pay  a  fresh  visit  to  the 
Spider.  She  runs  straight  to  the  second  tuft, 
where  she  hunts  about  for  a  long  time  for 
her  absent  prey.  She  knows  that  it  was  there, 
when  last  seen,  and  no  elsewhere;  she  persists 
in  looking  for  it  there  and  does  not  once  think 
of  going  back  to  the  first  perch.  The  first 
tuft  of  grass  no  longer  counts;  the  second 
alone  interests  her.  And  then  the  search  in 
the  neighbourhood  begins  again. 

On  finding  her  game  on  the  bare  spot  where 
I  myself  have  placed  it,  the  Pompilus  quickly 
deposits  the  Spider  on  a  third  tuft  of  grass; 
and  the  experiment  is  renewed.  This  time, 
the  Pompilus  hurries  to  the  third  tuft  when 
she  comes  to  look  after  her  Spider;  she  hur- 
ries to  it  without  hesitation,  without  confusing 
it  in  any  way  with  the  first  two,  which  she 
scorns  to  visit,  so  sure  is  her  memory.  I  do 
the  same  thing  a  couple  of  times  more;  and 
the  insect  always  returns  to  the  last  perch, 
without  troubling  about  the  others.  I  stand 
amazed  at  the  memory  of  that  pigmy.  She 
need  but  catch  a  single  hurried  glimpse  of  a 
155 


The  Mason-bees 

spot  that  differs  in  no  wise  from  a  host  of 
others  in  order  to  remember  it  quite  well, 
notwithstanding  the  fact  that,  as  a  miner  re- 
lentlessly pursuing  her  underground  labours, 
she  has  other  matters  to  occupy  her  mind. 
Could  our  own  memory  always  vie  with  Hers? 
It  is  very  doubtful.  Allow  the  Red  Ant  the 
same  sort  of  memory;  and  her  peregrinations, 
her  returns  to  the  nest  by  the  same  road  are 
no  longer  difficult  to  explain. 

Tests  of  this  kind  have  furnished  me  with 
some  other  results  worthy  of  mention.  When 
convinced,  by  untiring  explorations,  that  her 
prey  is  no  longer  on  the  tuft  where  she  laid 
it,  the  Pompilus,  as  we  were  saying,  looks  for 
it  in  the  neighbourhood  and  finds  it  pretty 
easily,  for  I  am  careful  to  put  it  in  an  ex- 
posed place.  Let  us  increase  the  difficulty  to 
some  extent.  I  dig  the  tip  of  my  finger  into 
the  ground  and  lay  the  Spider  in  the  little  hole 
thus  obtained,  covering  her  with  a  tiny  leaf. 
Now  the  Wasp,  while  in  quest  of  her  lost 
prey,  happens  to  walk  over  this  leaf,  to  pass 
it  again  and  again  without  suspecting  that 
the  Spider  lies  beneath,  for  she  goes  and  con- 
tinues her  vain  search  farther  off.  Her  guide, 
therefore,  is  not  scent,  but  sight.  Neverthe- 
156 


The  Red  Ants 

less,  she  is  constantly  feeling  the  ground  with 
her  antennse.  What  can  be  the  function  of 
those  organs  ?  I  do  not  know,  although  I  as- 
sert that  they  are  not  olfactory  organs.  The 
Ammophila,  in  search  of  her  Grey  Worm,  had 
already  led  me  to  make  the  same  assertion; 
I  now  obtain  an  experimental  proof  which 
seems  to  me  decisive.  I  would  add  that  the 
Pompilus  has  very  short  sight:  often,  she 
passes  within  a  couple  of  inches  of  her  Spider 
without  seeing  her. 


CHAPTER  VII 

SOME      REFLECTIONS      UPON      INSECT      PSY- 
CHOLOGY 

THE  laudator  temporis  acti  is  out  of  fa- 
vour just  now:  the  world  is  on  the 
move.  Yes,  but  sometimes  it  moves  back- 
wards. When  I  was  a  boy,  our  twopenny 
textbooks  told  us  that  man  was  a  reasoning 
animal;  nowadays,  there  are  learned  volumes 
to  prove  to  us  that  human  reason  is  but  a 
higher  rung  in  the  ladder  whose  foot  reaches 
down  to  the  bottommost  depths  of  animal 
life.  There  is  the  greater  and  the  lesser; 
there  are  all  the  intermediary  rounds ;  but  no- 
where does  it  break  off  and  start  afresh.  It 
begins  with  zero  in  the  glair  of  a  cell  and 
ascends  until  we  come  to  the  mighty  brain  of 
a  Newton.  The  noble  faculty  of  which  we 
were  so  proud  is  a  zoological  attribute.  All 
have  a  larger  or  smaller  share  of  it,  from  the 
live  atom  to  the  anthropoid  ape,  that  hideous 
caricature  of  man. 

It  always  struck  me  that  those  who  held 
158 


Reflections  upon  Insect  Psychology 

this  levelling-theory  made  facts  say  more  than 
they  really  meant ;  it  struck  me  that,  in  order 
to  obtain  their  plain,  they  were  lowering  the 
mountain-peak,  man,  and  elevating  the  valley, 
the  animal.  Now  this  levelling  of  theirs 
needed  proofs,  to  my  mind;  and,  as  I  found 
none  in  their  books,  or  at  any  rate  only  doubt- 
ful and  highly  debatable  ones,  I  did  my  own 
observing,  in  order  to  arrive  at  a  definite  con- 
viction; I  sought;  I  experimented. 

To  speak  with  any  certainty,  it  behoves  us 
not  to  go  beyond  what  we  really  know.  I  am 
beginning  to  have  a  passable  acquaintance 
with  insects,  after  spending  some  forty  years 
in  their  company.  Let  us  question  the  insect, 
then :  not  the  first  that  comes  along,  but  the 
most  gifted,  the  Hymenopteron.  I  am  giving 
my  opponents  every  advantage.  Where  will 
they  find  a  creature  more  richly  endowed  with 
talent?  It  would  seem  as  though,  in  creating 
it,  nature  had  delighted  in  bestowing  the  great- 
est amount  of  industry  upon  the  smallest  body 
of  matter.  Can  the  bird,  wonderful  architect 
that  it  is,  compare  its  work  with  that  master- 
piece of  higher  geometry,  the  edifice  of  the 
Bee?  The  Hymenopteron  rivals  man  him- 
self. We  build  towns,  the  Bee  erects  cities; 
iS9 


The  Mason-bees 

we  have  servants,  the  Ant  has  hers;  we  rear 
domestic  animals,  she  rears  her  sugar-yielding 
insects;  we  herd  cattle,  she  herds  her  milch- 
cows,  the  Aphides ;  we  have  abolished  slavery, 
whereas  she  continues  her  nigger-traffic. 

Well,  does  this  superior,  this  privileged 
being  reason?  Reader,  do  not  smile:  this  is 
a  most  serious  matter,  well  worthy  of  our  con- 
sideration. To  devote  our  attention  to  ani- 
mals is  to  plunge  at  once  into  the  vexed  quest- 
ion of  who  we  are  and  whence  we  come. 
What,  then,  passes  in  that  little  Hymenop- 
teron  brain?  Has  it  faculties  akin  to  ours, 
has  it  the  power  of  thought?  What  a  pro- 
blem, if  we  could  only  solve  it ;  what  a  chapter 
of  psychology,  if  we  could  only  write  it !  But, 
at  our  very  first  questionings,  the  mysterious 
will  rise  up,  impenetrable:  we  may  be  con- 
vinced of  that.  We  are  incapable  of  knowing 
ourselves ;  what  will  it  be  if  we  try  to  fathom 
the  intellect  of  others?  Let  us  be  content  if 
we  succeed  in  gleaning  a  few  grains  of  truth. 

What  is  reason?  Philosophy  would  give 
us  learned  definitions.  Let  us  be  modest  and 
keep  to  the  simplest:  we  are  only  treating  of 
animals.  Reason  is  the  faculty  that  connects 
the  effect  with  its  cause  and  directs  the  act  by 
160 


Reflections  upon  Insect  Psychology 

conforming  it  to  the  needs  of  the  accidental. 
Within  these  limits,  are  animals  capable  of 
reasoning?  Are  they  able  to  connect  a  "be- 
cause" with  a  "why"  and  afterwards  to  regu- 
late their  behaviour  accordingly?  Are  they 
able  to  change  their  line  of  conduct  when 
faced  with  an  emergency? 

History  has  but  few  data  likely  to  be  of  use 
to  us  here ;  and  those  which  we  find  scattered 
in  various  authors  are  seldom  able  to  with- 
stand a  severe  examination.  One  of  the  most 
remarkable  of  which  I  know  is  supplied  by 
Erasmus  Darwin,  in  his  book  entitled  Zoo- 
nomla.  It  tells  of  a  Wasp  that  has  just  caught 
and  killed  a  big  Fly.  The  wind  is  blowing, 
and  the  huntress,  hampered  in  her  flight  by 
the  great  area  presented  by  her  prize,  alights 
on  the  ground  to  amputate  the  abdomen,  the 
head  and  the  wings;  she  flies  away,  carrying 
with  her  only  the  thorax,  which  gives  less  hold 
to  the  wind.  If  we  keep  to  the  bald  facts,  this 
does,  I  admit,  give  a  semblance  of  reason. 
The  Wasp  appears  to  grasp  the  relation  be- 
tween cause  and  effect.  The  effect  is  the  re- 
sistance experienced  in  the  flight ;  the  cause  is 
the  dimensions  of  the  prey  contending  with 
the  air.  Hence  the  logical  conclusion:  those 
161 


The  Mason-bees 

dimensions  must  be  decreased;  the  abdomen, 
the  head  and,  above  all,  the  wings  must  be 
chopped  off;  and  the  resistance  will  be  les- 
sened.1 

But  does  this  concatenation  of  ideas,  rudi- 
mentary though  it  be,  really  take  place  within 
the  insect's  brain  ?  I  am  convinced  of  the  con- 


al  would  gladly,  if  I  were  able,  cancel  some  rather 
hasty  lines  which  I  allowed  myself  to  pen  in  the  first  vol- 
ume of  these  Souvenirs;  but  scripta  manent  and  all  that 
I  can  do  is  to  make  amends  now,  in  this  note,  for  the 
error  into  which  I  fell.  Relying  on  Lacordaire,  who 
quotes  this  instance  from  Erasmus  Darwin  in  his  own 
Introduction  a  I'entomologie,  I  believed  that  a  Sphex  was 
given  as  the  heroine  of  the  story.  How  could  I  do  other- 
wise, not  having  the  original  text  in  front  of  me?  How 
could  I  suspect  that  an  entomologist  of  Lacordaire's 
standing  should  be  capable  of  such  a  blunder  as  to  substi- 
tute a  Sphex  for  a  Common  Wasp?  Great  was  my  per- 
plexity, in  the  face  of  this  evidence!  A  Sphex  capturing 
a  Fly  was  an  impossibility;  and  I  blamed  the  British 
scientist  accordingly.  But  what  insect  was  it  that  Eras- 
mus Darwin  saw?  Calling  logic  to  my  aid,  I  declared 
that  it  was  a  Wasp;  and  I  could  not  have  hit  the  mark 
more  truly.  Charles  Darwin,  in  fact,  informed  me  after- 
wards that  his  grandfather  wrote,  "a  Wasp,"  in  his 
Zoonomia.  Though  the  correction  did  credit  to  my  intel- 
ligence, I  none  the  less  deeply  regretted  my  mistake,  for 
I  had  uttered  suspicions  of  the  observer's  powers  of 
discernment,  unjust  suspicions  which  the  translator's  in- 
accuracy led  me  into  entertaining.  May  this  note  serve  to 
mitigate  the  harshness  of  the  strictures  provoked  by  my 
overtaxed  credulity.  I  do  not  scruple  to  attack  ideas 
which  I  consider  false;  but  Heaven  forfend  that  I  should 
ever  attack  those  who  uphold  them! — Author's  Note. 
162 


Reflections  upon  Insect  Psychology 

trary;  and  my  proofs  are  unanswerable.  In 
the  first  volume  of  these  Souvenirs,1  I  demon- 
strated by  experiment  that  Erasmus  Darwin's 
Wasp  was  but  obeying  her  instinct,  which  is 
to  cut  up  the  captured  game  and  to  keep  only 
the  most  nourishing  part,  the  thorax.  Whether 
the  day  be  perfectly  calm  or  whether  the 
wind  blow,  whether  she  be  in  the  shelter  of  a 
dense  thicket  or  in  the  open,  I  see  the  Wasp 
proceed  to  separate  the  succulent  from  the 
tough;  I  see  her  reject  the  legs,  the  wings,  the 
head  and  the  abdomen,  retaining  only  the 
breast  as  pap  for  her  larvae.  Then  what  value 
has  this  dissection  as  an  argument  in  favour 
of  the  insect's  reasoning-powers  when  the 
wind  blows?  It  has  no  value  at  all,  for  it 
would  take  place  just  the  same  in  absolutely 
calm  weather.  Erasmus  Darwin  jumped  too 
quickly  to  his  conclusion,  which  was  the  out- 
come of  his  mental  bias  and  not  of  the  logic 
of  things.  If  he  had  first  enquired  into  the 
Wasp's  habits,  he  would  not  have  brought  for- 
ward as  a  serious  argument  an  incident  which 
had  no  connection  with  the  important  question 
of  animal  reason. 

1Cf.  Insect  Life:  chap.  ix. — Translator's  Note. 
163 


The  Mason-bees 

I  have  reverted  to  this  case  to  show  the 
difficulties  that  beset  the  man  who  confines 
himself  to  casual  observations,  however  care- 
fully carried  out.  One  should  never  rely  upon 
a  lucky  chance,  which  may  not  occur  again. 
We  must  multiply  our  observations,  check 
them  one  with  the  other;  we  must  create  inci- 
dents, looking  into  preceding  ones,  finding  out 
succeeding  ones  and  working  out  the  relation 
between  them  all :  then  and  not  till  then,  with 
extreme  caution,  are  we  entitled  to  express  a 
few  views  worthy  of  credence.  Nowhere  do 
I  find  data  collected  under  such  conditions;  for 
which  reason,  however  much  I  might  wish  it,  it 
is  impossible  for  me  to  bring  the  evidence  of 
others  in  support  of  the  few  conclusions  which 
I  myself  have  formed. 

My  Mason-bees,  with  their  nests  hanging 
on  the  walls  of  the  arch  which  I  have  men- 
tioned, lent  themselves  to  continuous  experi- 
ment better  than  any  other  Hymenopteron.  I 
had  them  there,  at  my  house,  under  my  eyes, 
at  all  hours  of  the  day,  as  long  as  I  wished. 
I  was  free  to  follow  their  actions  in  full  detail 
and  to  carry  out  successfully  any  experiment, 
however  long.  Moreover,  their  numbers  al- 
lowed me  to  repeat  my  attempts  until  I  was 
164 


Reflections  upon  Insect  Psychology 

perfectly  convinced.  The  Mason-bees,  there- 
fore, shall  supply  me  with  the  materials  for 
this  chapter  also. 

A  few  words,  before  I  begin,  about  the 
works.  The  Mason-bee  of  the  Sheds  utilizes, 
first  of  all,  the  old  galleries  of  the  clay  nest,  a 
part  of  which  she  good-naturedly  abandons  to 
two  Osmise,  her  free  tenants :  the  Three- 
horned  Osmia  and  Latreille's  Osmia.  These 
old  corridors,  which  save  labour,  are  in  great 
demand;  but  there  are  not  many  vacant,  as  the 
more  precocious  Osmias  have  already  taken 
possession  of  most  of  them;  and  therefore  the 
building  of  new  cells  soon  begins.  These 
cells  are  cemented  to  the  surface  of  the  nest, 
which  thus  increases  in  thickness  every  year. 
The  edifice  of  cells  is  not  built  all  at  once : 
mortar  and  honey  alternate  repeatedly.  The 
masonry  starts  with  a  sort  of  little  swallow's 
nest,  a  half-cup  or  thimble,  whose  circumfer- 
ence is  completed  by  the  wall  against  which  it 
rests.  Picture  the  cup  of  an  acorn  cut  in  two 
and  stuck  to  the  surface  of  the  nest :  there  you 
have  the  receptacle  in  a  stage  sufficiently  ad- 
vanced to  take  a  first  instalment  of  honey. 

The  Bee  thereupon  leaves  the  mortar  and 
busies  herself  with  harvesting.  After  a  few 
165 


The  Mason-bees 

foraging-trips,  the  work  of  building  is  re- 
sumed; and  some  new  rows  of  bricks  raise  the 
edge  of  the  basin,  which  becomes  capable  of 
receiving  a  larger  stock  of  provisions.  Then 
comes  another  change  of  business :  the  mason 
once  more  becomes  a  harvester.  A  little  later, 
the  harvester  is  again  a  mason ;  and  these  al- 
ternations continue  until  the  cell  is  of  the  regu- 
lation height  and  holds  the  amount  of  honey 
required  for  the  larva.  Thus  come,  turn  and 
turn  about,  more  or  less  numerous  according 
to  the  occupation  in  hand,  journeys  to  the  dry 
and  barren  path,  where  the  cement  is  gathered 
and  mixed,  and  journeys  to  the  flowers,  where 
the  Bee's  crop  is  crammed  with  honey  and  her 
belly  powdered  with  pollen. 

At  last  comes  the  time  for  laying.  We  see 
the  Bee  arrive  with  a  pellet  of  mortar.  She 
gives  a  glance  at  the  cell  to  enquire  if  every- 
thing is  in  order;  she  inserts  her  abdomen;  and 
the  egg  is  laid.  Then  and  there  the  mother 
seals  up  the  home :  with  her  pellet  of  cement 
she  closes  the  orifice  and  manages  so  well  with 
the  material  that  the  lid  receives  its  perma- 
nent form  at  this  first  sitting;  it  has  only  to  be 
thickened  and  strengthened  with  fresh  layers, 
a  work  which  is  less  urgent  and  will  be  done 
166 


Reflections  upon  Insect  Psychology 

by  and  by.  What  does  appear  to  be  an  urgent 
necessity  is  the  closing  of  the  cell,  immediately 
after  the  egg  has  been  religiously  deposited 
therein,  so  that  there  may  be  no  danger  from 
evilly-disposed  visitors  during  the  mother's 
absence. 

The  Bee  must  have  serious  reasons  for 
thus  hurrying  on  the  closing  of  the  cell. 
What  would  happen  if,  after  laying  her  egg, 
she  left  the  house  open  and  went  to  the 
cement-pit  to  fetch  the  wherewithal  to  block 
the  door?  Some  thief  might  drop  in  and  sub- 
stitute her  own  egg  for  the  Mason-bee's.  We 
shall  see  that  our  suspicions  are  not  uncalled- 
for.  One  thing  is  certain,  that  the  Mason 
never  lays  without  having  in  her  mandibles 
the  pellet  of  mortar  required  for  the  imme- 
diate construction  of  the  lid  of  the  nest.  The 
precious  egg  must  not  for  a  single  instant  re- 
main exposed  to  the  cupidity  of  marauders. 

To  these  particulars  I  will  add  a  few  ge- 
neral observations  which  will  make  what  fol- 
lows easier  to  understand.  So  long  as  its  cir- 
cumstances are  normal,  the  insect's  actions  are 
calculated  most  rationally  in  view  of  the  ob- 
ject to  be  attained.  What  could  be  more  logi- 
cal, for  instance,  than  the  devices  employed  by 
167 


The  Mason-bees 

the  Hunting-wasp  when  paralyzing  her  prey1 
so  that  it  may  keep  fresh  for  her  larva,  while 
in  no  wise  imperilling  that  larva's  safety?  It 
is  preeminently  rational;  we  ourselves  could 
think  of  nothing  better;  and  yet  the  insect's 
action  is  not  prompted  by  reason.  If  it 
thought  out  its  surgery,  it  would  be  our  su- 
perior. It  will  never  occur  to  anybody  that 
the  creature  is  able,  in  the  smallest  degree,  to 
account  for  its  skilful  vivisections.  There- 
fore, so  long  as  it  does  not  depart  from  the 
path  mapped  out  for  it,  the  insect  can  perform 
the  most  sagacious  actions  without  entitling 
us  in  the  least  to  attribute  these  to  the  dictates 
of  reason. 

What  would  happen  in  an  emergency  ?  Here 
we  must  distinguish  carefully  between  two 
classes  of  emergency,  or  we  shall  be  liable  to 
grievous  error.  First,  in  accidents  occurring 
in  the  course  of  the  insect's  occupation  at  the 
moment.  In  these  circumstances,  the  creature 
is  capable  of  remedying  the  accident;  it  con- 
tinues, under  a  similar  form,  its  actual  task; 
it  remains,  in  short,  in  the  same  psychic  con- 
dition. In  the  second  case,  the  accident  is  con- 

xCf.  Insect  Life:  chaps,  iii.  to  xii.  and  xv.  to  xvii. — 
Translator's  Note. 

168 


Reflections  upon  Insect  Psychology 

nected  with  a  more  remote  occupation;  it  re- 
lates to  a  completed  task  with  which,  under 
normal  conditions,  the  insect  is  no  longer  con- 
cerned. To  meet  this  emergency,  the  creature 
would  have  to  retrace  its  psychic  course;  it 
would  have  to  do  all  over  again  what  it  has 
just  finished,  before  turning  its  attention  to 
anything  else.  Is  the  insect  capable  of  this? 
Will  it  be  able  to  leave  the  present  and  return 
to  the  past?  Will  it  decide  to  hark  back  to  a 
task  that  is  much  more  pressing  than  the  one 
on  which  it  is  engaged  ?  If  it  did  all  this,  then 
we  should  really  have  evidence  of  a  modicum 
of  reason.  The  question  shall  be  settled  by 
experiment. 

We  will  begin  by  taking  a  few  incidents 
that  come  under  the  first  heading.  A  Mason- 
bee  has  finished  the  first  layer  of  the  covering 
of  the  cell.  She  has  gone  in  search  of  a  sec- 
ond pellet  of  mortar  wherewith  to  strengthen 
her  work.  In  her  absence,  I  prick  the  lid  with 
a  needle  and  widen  the  hole  thus  made,  until 
it  is  half  the  size  of  the  opening.  The  insect 
returns  and  repairs  the  damage.  It  was  origin- 
ally engaged  on  the  lid  and  is  merely  con- 
tinuing its  work  in  mending  that  lid. 

A  second  is  still  at  her  first  row  of  bricks. 
169 


The  Mason-bees 

The  cell  as  yet  is  no  more  than  a  shallow  cup, 
containing  no  provisions.  I  make  a  big  hole 
in  the  bottom  of  the  cup  and  the  Bee  hastens 
to  stop  the  breach.  She  was  busy  building 
and  turned  aside  a  moment  to  do  more  build- 
ing. Her  repairs  are  the  continuation  of  the 
work  on  which  she  was  engaged. 

A  third  has  laid  her  egg  and  closed  the  cell. 
While  she  is  gone  in  search  of  a  fresh  supply 
of  cement  to  strengthen  the  door,  I  make  a 
large  aperture  immediately  below  the  lid,  too 
high  up  to  allow  the  honey  to  escape.  The  in- 
sect, on  arriving  with  its  mortar  intended  for 
a  different  task,  sees  its  broken  jar  and  soon 
puts  the  damage  right.  I  have  rarely  wit- 
nessed such  a  sensible  performance.  Never- 
theless, all  things  considered,  let  us  not  be  too 
lavish  of  our  praises.  The  insect  was  busy 
closing  up.  On  its  return,  it  sees  a  crack, 
representing  in  its  eyes  a  bad  joint  which  it 
had  overlooked ;  it  completes  its  actual  task  by 
improving  the  joint. 

The  conclusion  to  be  drawn  from  these 
three  instances,  which  I  select  from  a  large 
number  of  others,  more  or  less  similar,  is  that 
the  insect  is  able  to  cope  with  emergencies, 
provided  that  the  new  action  be  not  outside 
170 


Reflections  upon  Insect  Psychology 

the  course  of  its  actual  work  at  the  moment. 
Shall  we  say  then  that  reason  directs  it  ?  Why 
should  we?  The  insect  persists  in  the  same 
psychic  course,  it  continues  its  action,  it  does 
what  it  was  doing  before,  it  corrects  what  to 
it  appears  but  a  careless  flaw  in  the  work  of 
the  moment. 

Here,  moreover,  is  something  which  would 
change  our  estimate  entirely,  if  it  ever  oc- 
curred to  us  to  look  upon  these  repaired 
breaches  as  a  work  dictated  by  reason.  Let 
us  turn  to  the  second  class  of  emergency  re- 
ferred to  above :  let  us  imagine,  first,  cells  simi- 
lar to  those  in  the  second  experiment,  that  is 
to  say,  only  half-finished,  in  the  form  of  a 
shallow  cup,  but  already  containing  honey. 
I  make  a  hole  in  the  bottom,  through  which 
the  provisions  ooze  and  run  to  waste.  Their 
owners  are  harvesting.  Let  us  imagine,  on 
the  other  hand,  cells  very  nearly  finished  and 
almost  completely  provisioned.  I  perforate 
the  bottom  in  the  same  way  and  let  out  the 
honey,  which  drips  through  gradually.  The 
owners  of  these  are  building. 

Judging  by  what  has  gone  before,  the 
reader  will  perhaps  expect  to  see  immediate 
repairs,  urgent  repairs,  for  the  safety  of  the 
171 


The  Mason-bees 

future  larva  is  at  stake.  Let  him  dismiss  any 
such  illusion:  more  and  more  journeys  are  un- 
dertaken, now  in  quest  of  food,  now  in  quest 
of  mortar;  but  not  one  of  the  Mason-bees 
troubles  about  the  disastrous  breach.  The 
harvester  goes  on  harvesting;  the  busy  brick- 
layer proceeds  with  her  next  row  of  bricks,  as 
though  nothing  out  of  the  way  had  happened. 
Lastly,  if  the  injured  cells  are  high  enough 
and  contain  enough  provisions,  the  Bee  lays 
her  eggs,  puts  a  door  to  the  house  and  passes 
on  to  another  house,  without  doing  aught  to 
remedy  the  leakage  of  the  honey.  Two  or 
three  days  later,  those  cells  have  lost  all  their 
contents,  which  now  form  a  long  trail  on  the 
surface  of  the  nest. 

Is  it  through  lack  of  intelligence  that  the 
Bee  allows  her  honey  to  go  to  waste?  May 
it  not  rather  be  through  helplessness?  It 
might  happen  that  the  sort  of  mortar  which 
the  mason  has  at  her  disposal  will  not  set  on 
the  edges  of  a  hole  that  is  sticky  with  honey. 
The  honey  may  prevent  the  cement  from  ad- 
justing itself  to  the  orifice,  in  which  case  the 
insect's  inertness  would  merely  be  resignation 
to  an  irreparable  evil.  Let  us  look  into  the 
matter  before  drawing  inferences.  With  my 
172 


Reflections  upon  Insect  Psychology 

forceps,  I  deprive  the  Bee  of  her  pellet  of 
mortar  and  apply  it  to  the  hole  whence  the 
honey  is  escaping.  My  attempt  at  repairing 
meets  with  the  fullest  success,  though  I  do  not 
pretend  to  compete  with  the  Mason  in  dex- 
terity. For  a  piece  of  work  done  by  a  man's 
hand  it  is  quite  creditable.  My  dab  of  mor- 
tar fits  nicely  into  the  mutilated  wall ;  it  hard- 
ens as  usual;  and  the  escape  of  honey  ceases. 
This  is  quite  satisfactory.  What  would  it  be 
had  the  work  been  done  by  the  insect, 
equipped  with  its  tools  of  exquisite  precision? 
When  the  Mason-bee  refrains,  therefore,  this 
is  not  due  to  helplessness  on  her  part,  nor  to 
any  defect  in  the  material  employed. 

Another  objection  presents  itself.  We  are 
going  too  far  perhaps  in  admitting  this  conca- 
tenation of  ideas  in  the  insect's  mind,  in  ex- 
pecting it  to  argue  that  the  honey  is  running 
away  because  the  cell  has  a  hole  in  it  and  that 
to  save  it  from  being  wasted  the  hole  must  be 
stopped.  So  much  logic  perhaps  exceeds  the 
powers  of  its  poor  little  brain.  Then,  again, 
the  hole  is  not  seen ;  it  is  hidden  by  the  honey 
trickling  through.  The  cause  of  that  stream 
of  honey  is  an  unknown  cause;  and  to  trace 
the  loss  of  the  liquid  home  to  that  cause,  to 
173 


The  Mason-bees 

the  hole  in  the  receptacle,  is  too  lofty  a  piece 
of  reasoning  for  the  insect. 

A  cell  in  the  rudimentary  cup-stage  and  con- 
taining no  provisions  has  a  hole,  three  or  four 
millimetres1  wide,  made  in  it  at  the  bottom. 
A  few  moments  later,  this  orifice  is  stopped  by 
the  Mason.  We  have  already  witnessed  a 
similar  patching.  The  insect,  having  finished, 
starts  foraging.  I  reopen  the  hole  at  the  same 
place.  The  pollen  runs  through  the  aperture 
and  falls  to  the  ground  as  the  Bee  is  rubbing 
off  her  first  load  in  the  cell.  The  damage  is 
undoubtedly  observed.  When  plunging  her 
head  into  the  cup  to  take  stock  of  what  she 
has  stored,  the  Bee  puts  her  antennae  into  the 
artificial  hole:  she  sounds  it,  she  explores  it, 
she  cannot  fail  to  perceive  it. 

I  see  the  two  feelers  quivering  outside  the 
hole.  The  insect  notices  the  breach  in  the 
wall :  that  is  certain.  It  flies  off.  Will  it  bring 
back  mortar  from  its  present  journey  to  repair 
the  injured  jar  even  as  it  did  but  a  few 
minutes  ago? 

Not  at  all.  It  returns  with  provisions,  it 
disgorges  its  honey,  it  rubs  off  its  pollen,  it 

1.n  to  .15  inch. — Translator's  Note. 
174 


Reflections  upon  Insect  Psychology 

mixes  the  material.  The  sticky  and  almost 
solid  mass  fills  up  the  opening  and  oozes 
through  with  difficulty.  I  roll  a  spill  of  paper 
and  free  the  hole,  which  remains  open  and 
shows  daylight  clearly  in  both  directions.  I 
sweep  the  place  clear  over  and  over  again, 
whenever  it  becomes  necessary  because  new 
provisions  are  brought;  I  clean  the  opening 
sometimes  in  the  Bee's  absence,  sometimes  in 
her  presence,  while  she  is  busy  mixing  her 
paste.  The  unusual  happenings  in  the  ware- 
house plundered  from  below  cannot  escape  her 
any  more  than  the  ever-open  breach  at  the 
bottom  of  the  cell.  Nevertheless,  for  three 
consecutive  hours,  I  witness  this  strange  sight : 
the  Bee,  full  of  active  zeal  for  the  task  in 
hand,  omits  to  plug  this  vessel  of  the  Dan- 
aides.  She  persists  in  trying  to  fill  her 
cracked  receptacle,  whence  the  provisions  dis- 
appear as  soon  as  stored  away.  She  con- 
stantly alternates  between  mason's  and  har- 
vester's work;  she  raises  the  edges  of  the  cell 
with  fresh  rows  of  bricks;  she  brings  provi- 
sions which  I  continue  to  abstract,  so  as  to 
leave  the  breach  always  visible.  She  makes 
thirty-two  journeys  before  my  eyes,  now  for 
mortar,  now  for  honey,  and  not  once  does  she 
175 


The  Mason-bees 

bethink  herself  of  stopping  the  leakage  at  the 
bottom  of  her  jar. 

At  five  o'clock  in  the  evening,  the  works 
cease.  They  are  resumed  on  the  morrow. 
This  time,  I  neglect  to  clean  out  my  artificial 
orifice  and  leave  the  victuals  gradually  to  ooze 
out  by  themselves.  At  length,  the  egg  is  laid 
and  the  door  sealed  up,  without  anything  be- 
ing done  by  the  Bee  in  the  matter  of  the  dis- 
astrous breach.  And  yet  to  plug  the  hole 
were  an  easy  matter  for  her :  a  pellet  of  her 
mortar  would  suffice.  Besides,  while  the  cup 
was  still  empty,  did  she  not  instantly  close  the 
hole  which  I  had  made?  Why  are  not  those 
early  repairs  of  hers  repeated?  It  clearly 
shows  the  creature's  inability  to  retrace  the 
course  of  its  actions,  however  slightly.  At 
the  time  of  the  first  breach,  the  cup  was  empty 
and  the  insect  was  laying  the  first  rows  of 
bricks.  The  accident  produced  through  my 
agency  concerned  that  part  of  the  work  which 
occupied  the  Bee  at  the  actual  moment;  it  was 
a  flaw  in  the  building,  such  as  can  occur  na- 
turally in  new  courses  of  masonry,  which  have 
not  had  time  to  harden.  In  correcting  that 
flaw,  the  mason  did  not  go  outside  her  usual 
work. 

176 


Reflections  upon  Insect  Psychology 

But,  once  the  provisioning  begins,  t'he  cup 
is  finished  for  good  and  all;  and,  come  what 
may,  the  insect  will  not  touch  it  again.  The 
harvester  will  go  on  harvesting,  though  the 
pollen  trickle  to  the  ground  through  the  drain. 
To  plug  the  hole  would  imply  a  change  of 
occupation  of  which  the  insect  is  incapable  for 
the  moment.  It  is  the  honey's  turn  and  not 
the  mortar's.  The  rule  upon  this  point  is  in- 
variable. A  moment  comes,  presently,  when 
the  harvesting  is  interrupted  and  the  building 
resumed.  The  edifice  must  be  raised  a  storey 
higher.  Will  the  Bee,  once  more  a  mason, 
mixing  fresh  cement,  now  attend  to  the  leak- 
age at  the  bottom?  No  more  than  before. 
What  occupies  her  at  present  is  the  new  floor, 
whose  brickwork  would  be  repaired  at  once 
if  it  sustained  a  damage;  but  the  bottom 
storey  is  too  old  a  part  of  the  business,  it  is 
ancient  history;  and  the  worker  will  not  put 
a  further  touch  to  it,  even  though  it  be  in 
serious  danger. 

For  the  rest,  the  present  and  the  following 
storeys  will  all  have  the  same  fate.  Carefully 
watched  by  the  insect  as  long  as  they  are  in 
process  of  building,  they  are  forgotten  and 
allowed  to  go  to  ruin  once  they  are  actually 
i77 


The  Mason-bees 

built.  Here  is  a  striking  instance:  in  a  cell 
which  has  attained  its  full  height,  I  make  a 
window,  almost  as  large  as  the  natural  open- 
ing, and  place  it  about  half-way  up,  above  the 
honey.  The  Bee  brings  provisions  for  some 
time  longer  and  then  lays  her  egg.  Through 
my  big  window,  I  see  the  egg  deposited  on  the 
victuals.  The  insect  next  works  at  the  cover, 
to  which  it  gives  the  finishing  touches  with  a 
series  of  little  taps,  administered  with  infinite 
care,  while  the  breach  remains  yawning.  On 
the  lid,  it  scrupulously  stops  up  every  pore  that 
could  admit  so  much  as  an  atom;  but  it  leaves 
the  great  opening  that  places  the  house  at  the 
mercy  of  the  first-comer.  It  goes  to  that 
breach  repeatedly,  puts  in  its  head,  examines 
it,  explores  it  with  its  antennae,  nibbles  the 
edges  of  it.  And  that  is  all.  The  mutilated 
cell  shall  stay  as  it  is,  with  never  a  dab  of  mor- 
tar. The  threatened  part  dates  too  far  back 
for  the  Bee  to  think  of  troubling  about  it. 

I  have  said  enough,  I  think,  to  show  the  in- 
sect's mental  incapacity  in  the  presence  of  the 
accidental.  This  incapacity  is  confirmed  by 
renewing  the  test,  an  essential  condition  of  all 
good  experiments ;  therefore  my  notes  are  full 
of  examples  similar  to  the  one  which  I  have 
178 


Reflections  upon  Insect  Psychology 

just  described.  To  relate  them  would  be  mere 
repetition;  I  pass  them  over  for  the  sake  of 
brevity. 

The  renewal  of  a  test  is  not  sufficient:  we 
must  also  vary  our  test.  Let  us,  then,  examine 
the  insect's  intelligence  from  another  point  of 
view,  that  of  the  introduction  of  foreign  bo- 
dies into  the  cell.  The  Mason-bee  is  a  house- 
keeper of  scrupulous  cleanliness,  as  indeed  are 
all  Hymenoptera.  Not  a  spot  of  dirt  is  per- 
mitted in  her  honey-pot;  not  a  grain  of  dust 
is  tolerated  on  the  surface  of  her  mixture. 
And  yet,  while  the  jar  is  open,  the  precious 
Bee-bread  is  exposed  to  accidents.  The  work- 
ers in  the  cells  above  may  inadvertently  drop 
a  little  mortar  into  the  lower  cells ;  the  owner 
herself,  when  working  at  enlarging  the  jar, 
runs  the  risk  of  letting  a  speck  of  cement  fall 
into  the  provisions.  A  Gnat,  attracted  by  the 
smell,  may  come  and  be  caught  in  the  honey; 
brawls  between  neighbours  who  are  getting 
into  each  other's  way  may  send  some  dust  fly- 
ing thither.  All  this  refuse  has  to  disappear 
and  that  quickly,  lest  afterwards  the  larva 
should  find  coarse  fare  under  its  delicate  man- 
dibles. Therefore  the  Mason-bees  must  be 
able  to  cleanse  the  cell  of  any  foreign  body. 
179 


The  Mason-bees 

And,  in  point  of  fact,  they  are  well  able  to  do 
so. 

I  place  on  the  surface  of  the  honey  five  or 
six  bits  of  straw  a  millimetre  in  length.  Great 
astonishment  on  the  part  of  the  returning  in- 
sect. Never  before  have  so  many  sweepings 
accumulated  in  its  warehouse.  The  Bee  picks 
out  the  bits  of  straw,  one  by  one,  to  the  very 
last,  and  each  time  goes  and  gets  rid  of  them 
at  a  distance.  The  effort  is  out  of  all  propor- 
tion to  the  work :  I  see  the  Bee  soar  above  the 
nearest  plane-tree,  to  a  height  of  thirty  feet, 
and  fly  away  beyond  it  to  rid  herself  of  her 
burden,  a  mere  atom.  She  fears  lest  she 
should  litter  the  place  by  dropping  her  bit  of 
straw  on  the  ground,  under  the  nest.  A  thing 
like  that  must  be  carried  very  far  away. 

I  place  upon  the  honey-paste  a  Mason-bee's 
egg  which  I  myself  saw  laid  in  and  adjacent 
cell.  The  Bee  picks  it  out  and  goes  and 
throws  it  away  at  a  distance,  like  the  straws 
just  now.  There  are  two  inferences  to  be 
drawn  from  this,  both  extremely  interesting. 
In  the  first  place,  that  precious  egg,  for  whose 
future  the  Bee  labours  so  indefatigably,  be- 

1.O39  inch. — Translator's  Note. 
1 80 


Reflections  upon  Insect  Psychology 

comes  a  valueless,  cumbersome,  hateful  thing 
when  it  belongs  to  another.  Her  own  egg  is 
everything;  the  egg  of  her  next-door  neigh- 
bour is  nothing.  It  is  flung  on  the  dust-heap 
like  any  bit  of  rubbish.  The  individual,  so 
zealous  on  behalf  of  her  family,  displays  an 
abominable  indifference  for  the  rest  of  her 
kind.  Each  one  for  himself.  In  the  second 
place,  I  ask  myself,  without  as  yet  being  able 
to  find  an  answer  to  my  question,  how  certain 
parasites  go  to  work  to  give  their  larva  the 
benefit  of  the  provisions  accumulated  by  the 
Mason-bee.  If  they  decide  to  lay  their  egg 
on  the  victuals  of  the  open  cell,  the  Bee,  when 
she  sees  it,  will  not  fail  to  cast  it  out;  if  they 
decide  to  lay  after  the  owner,  they  cannot  do 
so,  for  she  blocks  up  the  door  as  soon  as  her 
laying  is  done.  This  curious  problem  must  be 
reserved  for  future  investigation.1 

Lastly,  I  stick  into  the  paste  a  bit  of  straw 
nearly  an  inch  long  and  standing  well  out 
above  the  rim  of  the  cell.  The  insect  extracts 
it  by  dint  of  great  efforts,  dragging  it  away 
from  one  side;  or  else,  with  the  help  of  its 
wings,  it  drags  it  from  above.  It  darts  away 

1Cf.  The  Life  of  the  Fly:  chaps,  ii.  to  iv. ;  and  several 
later  chapters  in  the  present  volume. — Translator's  Note. 
181 


The  Mason-bees 

with  the  honey-smeared  straw  and  gets  rid  of 
it  at  a  distance,  after  flying  over  the  plane- 
tree. 

This  is  where  things  begin  to  get  compli- 
cated. I  have  said  that,  when  the  time  comes 
for  laying,  the  Mason-bee  arrives  with  a  pel- 
let of  mortar  wherewith  immediately  to  make 
a  door  to  the  house.  The  insect  with  its  front 
legs  resting  on  the  rim,  inserts  its  abdomen  in 
the  cell;  it  has  the  mortar  ready  in  its  mouth. 
Having  laid  the  egg,  it  comes  out  and  turns 
round  to  block  the  door.  I  wave  it  away  for 
a  second,  at  the  same  time  planting  my  straw 
as  before,  a  straw  sticking  out  for  nearly  a 
centimetre.1  What  will  the  Bee  do?  Will 
she,  who  is  scrupulous  in  ridding  the  home  of 
the  least  mote  of  dust,  extract  this  beam, 
which  would  certainly  prove  the  larva's  un- 
doing by  interfering  with  its  growth?  She 
could,  for  just  now  we  saw  her  drag  out  and 
throw  away,  at  a  distance,  a  similar  beam. 

She  could  and  she  doesn't.  She  closes  the 
cell,  cements  the  lid,  seals  up  the  straw  in  the 
thickness  of  the  mortar.  More  journeys  are 
taken,  not  a  few,  in  search  of  the  cement  re- 

1-39  inch. — Translator's  Note. 
182 


Reflections  upon  Insect  Psychology 

quired  to  strengthen  the  cover.  Each  time, 
the  mason  applies  the  material  with  the  most 
minute  care,  while  giving  the  straw  not  a 
thought.  In  this  way,  I  obtain,  one  after  the 
other,  eight  closed  cells  whose  lids  are  sur- 
mounted by  my  mast,  a  bit  of  protruding 
straw.  What  evidence  of  obtuse  intelligence ! 
This  result  is  deserving  of  attentive  consi- 
deration. At  the  moment  when  I  am  inserting 
my  beam,  the  insect  has  its  mandibles  en- 
gaged: they  are  holding  the  pellet  of  mortar 
intended  for  the  blocking-operation.  As  the 
extracting-tool  is  not  free,  the  extraction  does 
not  take  place.  I  expected  to  see  the  Bee  re- 
linquish her  mortar  and  then  proceed  to  re- 
move the  encumbrance.  A  dab  of  mortar 
more  or  less  is  not  a  serious  business.  I  had 
already  noticed  that  it  takes  my  Mason-bees  a 
journey  of  three  or  four  minutes  to  collect  one. 
The  pollen-expeditions  last  longer,  a  matter 
of  ten  or  fifteen  minutes.  To  drop  her  pellet, 
grab  the  straw  with  her  mandibles,  now  disen- 
gaged, remove  it  and  gather  a  fresh  supply  of 
cement  would  entail  a  loss  of  five  minutes  at 
most.  The  Bee  decides  differently.  She  will 
not,  she  cannot  relinquish  her  pellet;  and  she 
uses  it.  No  matter  that  the  larva  will  perish 
183 


The  Mason-bees 

by  this  untimely  trowelling:  the  moment  has 
come  to  wall  up  the  door;  the  door  is  walled 
up.  Once  the  mandibles  are  free,  the  extrac- 
tion could  be  attempted,  at  the  risk  of  wreck- 
ing the  lid.  But  the  Bee  does  nothing  of  the 
sort:  she  keeps  on  fetching  mortar;  and  the 
lid  is  religiously  finished. 

We  might  go  on  to  say  that,  if  the  Bee  were 
obliged  to  depart  in  quest  of  fresh  mortar 
after  dropping  the  first  to  withdraw  the  straw, 
she  would  leave  the  egg  unguarded;  and  that 
this  would  be  an  extreme  measure  which  the 
mother  cannot  bring  herself  to  adopt.  Then 
why  does  she  not  place  the  pellet  on  the  rim 
of  the  cell  ?  The  mandibles,  now  free,  would 
remove  the  beam;  the  pellet  would  be  taken 
up  again  at  once ;  and  everything  would  go  to 
perfection.  But  no :  the  insect  has  its  mortar 
and,  come  what  may,  employs  it  on  the  work 
for  which  it  was  intended. 

If  any  one  sees  a  rudiment  of  reason  in 
this  Hymenopteron  intelligence,  he  has  eyes 
that  are  more  penetrating  than  mine.  I  see 
nothing  in  all  this  but  an  invincible  persistence 
in  the  act  once  begun.  The  cogs  have 
gripped;  and  the  rest  of  the  wheels  must  fol- 
low. The  mandibles  are  fastened  on  the  pel- 
184 


Reflections  upon  Insect  Psychology 

let  of  mortar;  and  the  idea,  the  wish  to  un- 
fasten them  will  never  occur  to  the  insect  un- 
til the  pellet  has  fulfilled  its  purpose.  And 
here  is  a  still  greater  absurdity :  the  plugging 
once  begun  is  very  carefully  finished  with  fresh 
relays  of  mortar !  Exquisite  attention  is  paid 
to  a  closing-up  which  is  henceforth  useless ;  no 
attention  at  all  to  the  dangerous  beam.  O  lit- 
tle gleams  of  reason  that  are  said  to  enlighten 
the  animal,  you  are  very  near  the  darkness, 
you  are  naught ! 

Another  and  still  more  eloquent  fact  will 
finally  convince  whoso  may  yet  be  doubting. 
The  ration  of  honey  stored  up  in  a  cell  is  evi- 
dently measured  by  the  needs  of  the  coming 
larva.  There  is  neither  too  much  nor  too  lit- 
tle. How  does  the  Bee  know  when  the  proper 
quantity  is  reached?  The  cells  are  more  or 
less  constant  in  dimension,  but  they  are  not 
filled  completely,  only  to  about  two-thirds  of 
their  height.  A  large  space  is  therefore  left 
empty;  and  the  victualler  has  to  judge  of  the 
moment  when  the  surface  of  the  mess  has  at- 
tained the  right  level.  The  honey  being  per- 
fectly opaque,  its  depth  is  not  apparent.  I 
have  to  use  a  sounding-rod,  when  I  want  to 
gauge  the  contents  of  the  jar;  and  I  find,  on 
185 


The  Mason-bees 

the  average,  that  the  honey  reaches  a  depth 
of  ten  millimetres.1  The  Bee  has  not  this  re- 
source ;  she  has  sight,  which  may  enable  her  to 
estimate  the  full  section  from  the  empty  sec- 
tion. This  presupposes  the  possession  of  a 
somewhat  geometric  eye,  capable  of  measur- 
ing the  third  of  a  distance.  If  the  insect  did 
it  by  Euclid,  that  would  be  very  brilliant  of  it. 
What  a  magnificent  proof  in  favour  of  its  lit- 
tle intellect:  a  Chalicodoma  with  a  geometri- 
cian's eye,  able  to  divide  a  straight  line  into 
three  equal  parts !  This  is  worth  looking  into 
seriously. 

I  take  five  cells,  which  are  only  partly  pro- 
visioned, and  empty  them  of  their  honey  with 
a  wad  of  cotton  held  in  my  forceps.  From 
time  to  time,  as  the  Bee  brings  new  provisions, 
I  repeat  the  cleansing-process,  sometimes 
clearing  out  the  cell  entirely,  sometimes  leav- 
ing a  thin  layer  at  the  bottom.  I  do  not  ob- 
serve any  pronounced  hesitation  on  the  part  of 
my  plundered  victims,  even  though  they  sur- 
prise me  at  the  moment  when  I  am  draining 
the  jar;  they  continue  their  work  with  quiet  in- 
dustry. Sometimes,  two  or  three  threads  of 

J.39  inch. — Translator's  Note. 
186 


Reflections  upon  Insect  Psychology 

cotton  remain  clinging  to  the  walls  of  the 
cells:  the  Bees  remove  them  carefully  and 
dart  away  to  a  distance,  as  usual,  to  get  rid 
of  them.  At  last,  a  little  sooner  or  a  little 
later,  the  egg  is  laid  and  the  lid  fastened  on. 

I  break  open  the  five  closed  cells.  In  one, 
the  egg  has  been  laid  on  three  millimetres  of 
honey;1  in  two,  on  one  millimetre;2  and,  in 
the  two  others,  it  is  placed  on  the  side  of  the 
receptacle  drained  of  all  its  contents,  or,  to  be 
more  accurate,  having  only  the  glaze,  the  var- 
nish left  by  the  friction  of  the  honey-covered 
cotton. 

The  inference  is  obvious :  the  Bee  does  not 
judge  of  the  quantity  of  honey  by  the  eleva- 
tion of  the  surface;  she  does  not  reason  like 
a  geometrician,  she  does  not  reason  at  all. 
She  accumulates  so  long  as  she  feels  within 
her  the  secret  impulse  that  prompts  her  to  go 
on  collecting  until  the  victualling  is  com- 
pleted; she  ceases  to  accumulate  when  that 
impulse  is  satisfied,  irrespective  of  the  result, 
which  in  this  case  happens  to  be  worthless. 
No  mental  faculty,  assisted  by  sight,  informs 
her  when  she  has  enough,  when  she  has  too 


1.ii7  inch. — Translator's  Note. 
2.039  inch. — Translator's  Note 

187 


The  Mason-bees 

little.  An  instinctive  predisposition  is  her 
only  guide,  an  infallible  guide  under  normal 
conditions,  but  hopelessly  lost  when  subjected 
to  the  wiles  of  the  experimenter.  Had  the 
Bee  the  least  glimmer  of  reason,  would  she 
lay  her  egg  on  the  third,  on  the  tenth  part  of 
the  necessary  provender?  Would  she  lay  it 
in  an  empty  cell?  Would  she  be  guilty  of 
such  inconceivable  maternal  aberration  as  to 
leave  her  nurseling  without  nourishment?  I 
have  told  the  story ;  let  the  reader  decide. 

This  instinctive  predisposition,  which  does 
not  leave  the  insect  free  to  act  and,  through 
that  very  fact,  saves  it  from  error,  bursts  forth 
under  yet  another  aspect.  Let  us  grant  the 
Bee  as  much  judgment  as  you  please.  Thus 
endowed,  will  she  be  capable  of  meting  out 
the  future  larva's  portion?  By  no  means. 
The  Bee  does  not  know  what  that  portion  is. 
There  is  nothing  to  tell  the  materfamilias; 
and  yet,  at  her  first  attempt,  she  fills  the 
honey-pot  to  the  requisite  depth.  True,  in  her 
childhood,  she  received  a  similar  ration;  but 
she  consumed  it  in  the  darkness  of  a  cell ;  and, 
besides,  as  a  grub,  she  was  blind.  Sight  was 
not  her  informant:  it  did  not  tell  her  the 
quantity  of  the  provisions.  Did  memory,  the 
188 


Reflections  upon  Insect  Psychology 

memory  of  the  stomach  that  once  digested 
them?  But  digestion  took  place  a  year  ago; 
and,  since  that  distant  epoch,  the  nurseling, 
now  an  adult  insect,  has  changed  its  shape,  its 
dwelling,  its  mode  of  life.  It  was  a  grub;  it 
is  a  Bee.  Does  the  actual  insect  remember 
that  childhood's  meal?  No  more  than  we  re- 
member the  sups  of  milk  drawn  from  our  mo- 
ther's breast.  The  Bee,  therefore,  knows  no- 
thing of  the  quantity  of  provisions  needed  by 
her  larva,  whether  from  memory,  from  ex- 
ample or  from  acquired  experience.  Then 
what  guides  her  when  she  makes  her  estimate 
with  such  precision?  Judgment  and  sight 
would  leave  the  mother  greatly  perplexed, 
liable  to  provide  too  much  or  not  enough.  To 
instruct  her  beyond  the  possibility  of  a  mi- 
stake demands  a  special  tendency,  an  uncon- 
scious impulse,  an  instinct,  an  inword  voice 
that  dictates  the  measure  to  be  apportioned. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

PARASITES 

TN  August  or  September,  let  us  go  into  some 
gorge  with  bare  and  sun-scorched  sides. 
When  we  find  a  slope  well-baked  by  the  sum- 
mer heat,  a  quiet  corner  with  the  temperature 
of  an  oven,  we  will  call  a  halt :  there  is  a  fine 
harvest  to  be  gathered  there.  This  tropical 
land  is  the  native  soil  of  a  host  of  Wasps  and 
Bees,  some  of  them  busily  piling  the  house- 
hold provisions  in  underground  warehouses: 
here  a  stack  of  Weevils,  Locusts  or  Spiders, 
there  a  whole  assortment  of  Flies,  Bees, 
Mantes  or  Caterpillars,  while  others  are  stor- 
ing up  honey  in  membranous  wallets  or  clay 
pots,  or  else  in  cottony  bags  or  urns  made  with 
the  punched-out  disks  of  leaves. 

With  the  industrious  folk  who  go  quietly 
about  their  business,  the  labourers,  masons, 
foragers,  warehousers,  mingles  the  parasitic 
tribe,  the  prowlers  hurrying  from  one  home 
to  the  next,  lying  in  wait  at  the  doors,  watch- 
190 


Parasites 

ing  for  a  favourable  opportunity  to  settle 
their  family  at  the  expense  of  others. 

A  heart-rending  struggle,  in  truth,  is  that 
which  rules  the  insect  world  and  in  a  measure 
our  own  world  too.  No  sooner  has  a  worker, 
by  dint  of  exhausting  labour,  amassed  a  for- 
tune for  his  children  than  the  non-producers 
come  hastening  up  to  contend  for  its  possess- 
ion. To  one  who  amasses  there  are  some- 
times five,  six  or  more  bent  upon  his  ruin ;  and 
often  it  ends  not  merely  in  robbery  but  in 
black  murder.  The  worker's  family,  the  ob- 
ject of  so  much  care,  for  whom  that  home 
was  built  and  those  provisions  stored,  suc- 
cumb, devoured  by  the  intruders,  directly  the 
little  bodies  have  acquired  the  soft  roundness 
of  youth.  Shut  up  in  a  cell  that  is  closed  on 
every  side,  protected  by  its  silken  covering,  the 
grub,  once  its  victuals  are  consumed,  sinks 
into  a  profound  slumber,  during  which  the 
organic  changes  needed  for  the  future  trans- 
formation take  place.  For  this  new  hatching, 
which  is  to  turn  a  grub  into  a  Bee,  for  this 
general  remodelling,  the  delicacy  of  which  de- 
mands absolute  repose,  all  the  precautions  that 
make  for  safety  have  been  taken. 

These  precautions  will  be  foiled.  The  en- 
191 


The  Mason-bees 

emy  will  succeed  in  penetrating  the  impreg- 
nable fortress ;  each  foe  has  his  special  tactics, 
contrived  with  appalling  skill.  See,  an  egg  is 
inserted  by  means  of  a  probe  beside  the  torpid 
larva ;  or  else,  in  the  absence  of  such  an  imple- 
ment, an  infinitesimal  grub,  an  atom,  comes 
creeping  and  crawling,  slips  in  and  reaches  the 
sleeper,  who  will  never  wake  again,  already  a 
succulent  morsel  for  her  ferocious  visitor. 
The  interloper  makes  the  victim's  cell  and 
cocoon  his  own  cell  and  his  own  cocoon;  and 
next  year,  instead  of  the  mistress  of  the  house, 
there  will  come  from  below  ground  the  bandit 
who  usurped  the  dwelling  and  consumed  the 
occupant. 

Look  at  this  one,  striped  black,  white  and 
red,  with  the  figure  of  a  clumsy,  hairy  Ant. 
She  explores  the  slope  on  foot,  inspects  every 
nook  and  corner,  sounds  the  soil  with  her 
antennae.  She  is  a  Mutilla,  the  scourge 
of  the  cradled  grubs.  The  female  has  no 
wings,  but,  being  a  Wasp,  she  carries 
a  sharp  poniard.  To  novice  eyes  she 
would  easily  pass  for  a  sort  of  robust 
Ant,  distinguished  from  the  common  ruck  by 
her  garb  of  staring  motley.  The  male,  wide- 
winged  and  more  gracefully  shaped,  hovers 
192 


Parasites 

incessantly  a  few  inches  above  the  sandy  ex- 
panse. For  hours  at  a  time,  on  the  same  spot, 
after  the  manner  of  the  Scolia-wasp  he 
spies  the  coming  of  the  females  out  of 
the  ground.  If  our  watch  be  patient 
and  persevering,  we  shall  see  the  mother, 
after  trotting  about  for  a  bit,  stop  some- 
where and  begin  to  scratch  and  dig,  finally 
laying  bare  a  subterranean  gallery,  of 
which  there  was  nothing  to  betray  the  en- 
trance ;  but  she  can  discern  what  is  invisible  to 
us.  She  penetrates  into  the  abode,  remains 
there  for  a  while  and  at  last  reappears  to  re- 
place the  rubbish  and  close  the  door  as  it  was 
at  the  start.  The  abominable  deed  is  done : 
the  Mutilla's  egg  has  been  laid  in  another's 
cocoon,  beside  the  slumbering  larva  on  which 
the  new-born  grub  will  feed. 

Here  are  others,  all  aglitter  with  metallic 
gleams :  gold,  emerald,  blue  and  purple.  They 
are  the  humming-birds  of  the  insect-world, 
the  Chrysis-wasps  or  Golden  Wasps,  another 
set  of  exterminators  of  the  larvae  overcome 
with  lethargy  in  their  cocoons.  In  them,  the 
atrocious  assassin  of  cradled  children  lies 
hidden  under  the  splendour  of  the  garb.  One 
of  them,  half  emerald  and  half  pale-pink, 
193 


The  Mason-bees 

Parnopes  carnea  by  name,  boldly  enters  the 
burrow  of  Bembex  rostrata  at  the  very  mo- 
ment when  the  mother  is  at  home,  bringing 
a  fresh  piece  of  game  to  her  larva,  whom  she 
feeds  from  day  to  day.  To  the  elegant  crim- 
inal, unskilled  in  navvy's  work,  this  is  the  one 
moment  to  find  the  door  open.  If  the  mother 
were  away,  the  house  would  be  shut  up ;  and 
the  Golden  Wasp,  that  sneak-thief  in  royal 
robes,  could  not  get  in.  She  enters,  therefore, 
dwarf  as  she  is,  the  house  of  the  giantess 
whose  ruin  she  is  meditating;  she  makes  her 
way  right  to  the  back,  all  heedless  of  the 
Bembex,  her  sting  and  her  powerful  jaws. 
What  cares  she  that  the  home  is  not  deserted? 
Either  unmindful  of  the  danger  or  paralyzed 
with  terror,  the  Bembex  mother  lets  her  have 
her  way. 

The  unconcern  of  the  invaded  is  equalled 
only  by  the  boldness  of  the  invader.  Have 
I  not  seen  the  Anthophora-bee,  at  the  door  to 
her  dwelling,  stand  a  little  to  one  side  and 
make  room  for  the  Melecta  to  enter  the 
honey-stocked  cells  and  substitute  her  family 
for  the  unhappy  parent's?  One  would  think 
that  they  were  two  friends  meeting  on  the 
threshold,  one  going  in,  the  other  out ! 
194 


Parasites 

It  is  written  in  the  book  of  fate :  every- 
thing shall  happen  without  impediment  in  the 
burrow  of  the  Bembex  and  next  year,  if  we 
open  the  cells  of  that  mighty  huntress  of  Gad- 
flies, we  shall  find  some  which  contain  a 
russet-silk  cocoon,  the  shape  of  a  thimble  with 
its  orifice  closed  with  a  flat  lid.  In  this  silky 
tabernacle,  which  is  protected  by  the  hard 
outer  shell,  is  a  Parnopes  carnea.  As  for  the 
grub  of  the  Bembex,  that  grub  which  wove 
the  silk  and  next  encrusted  the  outer  casing 
with  sand,  it  has  disappeared  entirely,  all  but 
the  tattered  remnants  of  its  skin.  Disap- 
peared how?  The  Golden  Wasp's  grub  has 
eaten  it. 

Another  of  these  splendid  malefactors  is 
decked  in  lapis-lazuli  on  the  thorax  and  in 
Florentine  bronze  and  gold  on  the  abdomen, 
with  a  terminal  scarf  of  azure.  The  nomen- 
clators  have  christened  her  Stilbum  calens, 
FAB.  When  Eumenes  A  made?  has  built  on 
the  rock  her  agglomeration  of  dome-shaped 
cells,  with  a  casing  of  little  pebbles  set  in  the 
plaster,  when  the  store  of  Caterpillars  is  con- 
sumed and  the  secluded  ones  have  hung  their 

*A  species  of  Mason-wasp. — Translator's  Note. 
195 


The  Mason-bees 

apartments  with  silk,  we  see  the  Stilbum  take 
her  stand  on  the  inviolable  citadel.  No  doubt 
some  imperceptible  cranny,  some  defect  in  the 
cement,  allows  her  to  insert  her  ovipositor, 
which  shoots  out  like  a  probe.  At  any  rate, 
about  the  end  of  the  following  May,  the 
Eumenes'  chamber  contains  a  cocoon  which 
again  is  shaped  like  a  thimble.  From  this 
cocoon  comes  a  Stilbum  calens.  There  is 
nothing  left  of  the  Eumenes'  grub :  the 
Golden  Wasp  has  gorged  herself  upon  it. 

Flies  play  no  small  part  in  this  brigandage. 
Nor  are  they  the  least  to  be  dreaded,  weak- 
lings though  they  be,  sometimes  so  feeble  that 
the  collector  dare  not  take  them  in  his  fingers 
for  fear  of  crushing  them.  There  are  some 
clad  in  velvet  so  extraordinarily  delicate  that 
the  least  touch  rubs  it  off.  They  are  fluffs  of 
down  almost  as  frail,  in  their  soft  elegance, 
as  the  crystalline  edifice  of  a  snowflake  before 
it  touches  ground.  They  are  called  Bombylii. 

With  this  fragility  of  structure  is  combined 
an  incomparable  power  of  flight.  See  this 
one,  hovering  motionless  two  feet  above  the 
ground.  Her  wings  vibrate  so  rapidly  that 
they  appear  to  be  in  repose.  The  insect  looks 
as  though  it  were  hung  at  one  point  in  space 
I96 


Parasites 

by  some  invisible  thread.  You  make  a  move- 
ment; and  the  Bombylius  has  disappeared. 
You  cast  your  eyes  in  search  of  her  around 
you,  far  away,  judging  the  distance  by  the 
vigour  of  her  flight.  There  is  nothing  here, 
nothing  there.  Then  where  is  she  ?  Close  by 
you.  Look  at  the  point  whence  she  started: 
the  Bombylius  is  there  again,  hovering  mo- 
tionless. From  this  aerial  observatory,  as 
quickly  recovered  as  quitted,  she  inspects  the 
ground,  watching  for  the  favourable  moment 
to  establish  her  egg  at  the  cost  of  another 
creature's  destruction.  What  does  she  covet 
for  her  offspring:  the  honey-cupboard,  the 
stores  of  game,  the  larvae  in  their  transforma- 
tion-sleep ?  I  do  not  know  yet.  What  I  do 
know  is  that  her  slender  legs  and  her  dainty 
velvet  dress  do  not  allow  her  to  make  under- 
ground searches.  When  she  has  found  the 
propitious  place,  suddenly  she  will  swoop 
down,  lay  her  egg  on  the  surface  in  that  light- 
ning touch  with  the  tip  of  her  abdomen  and 
straightway  fly  up  again.  What  I  suspect, 
for  reasons  set  forth  presently,  is  that  the 
grub  that  comes  out  of  the  Bombylius'  egg 
must,  of  its  own  motion,  at  its  own  risk  and 
peril,  reach  the  victuals  which  the  mother 
197 


The  Mason-bees 

knows  to  be  close  at  hand.  She  has  no 
strength  to  do  more;  and  it  is  for  the  new- 
born grub  to  make  its  way  into  the  refectory. 

I  am  better  acquainted  with  the  manoeuvres 
of  certain  Tachinae,  the  tiniest  of  pale-grey 
Flies,  who,  cowering  on  the  sand  in  the  sun, 
in  the  neighbourhood  of  a  burrow,  patiently 
await  the  hour  at  which  to  strike  the  fell 
blow.  Let  a  Bembex  return  from  the  chase, 
with  her  Gad-fly;  a  Philanthus,  with  her  Bee; 
a  Cerceris,  with  her  Weevil;  a  Tachytes,  with 
her  Locust:  straightway  the  parasites  are 
there,  coming  and  going,  turning  and  twist- 
ing with  the  Wasp,  always  at  her  rear,  with- 
out allowing  themselves  to  be  put  off  by  any 
cautious  feints.  At  the  moment  when  the 
huntress  goes  indoors,  with  her  captured  game 
between  her  legs,  they  fling  themselves  on  her 
prey,  which  is  on  the  point  of  disappearing 
under  ground,  and  nimbly  lay  their  eggs 
upon  it.  The  thing  is  done  in  the  twinkling 
of  an  eye:  before  the  threshold  is  crossed,  the 
carcase  holds  the  germs  of  a  new  set  of  guests, 
who  will  feed  on  victuals  not  amassed  for 
them  and  starve  the  children  of  the  house  to 
death. 

This  other,  resting  on  the  burning  sand,  is 
198 


Parasites 

also  a  member  of  the  Fly  tribe;  she  is  an 
Anthrax.1  She  has  wide  wings,  spread  hori- 
zontally, half  smoked  and  half  transparent. 
She  wears  a  dress  of  velvet,  like  the  Bom- 
bylius,  her  near  neighbour  in  the  official  regis- 
ters; but,  though  the  soft  down  is  similar  in 
fineness,  it  is  very  different  in  colour.  Anthrax 
is  Greek  for  coal.  It  is  a  happy  denomina- 
tion, reminding  us  of  the  Fly's  mourning 
livery,  a  coal-black  livery  with  silver  tears. 
The  same  deep  mourning  garbs  those  parasitic 
Bees,  the  Crocisae  and  the  Melectae;  and  these 
are  the  only  instances  known  to  me  of  that 
violent  opposition  of  dead  black  and  white. 

Nowadays,  when  men  interpret  everything 
with  glorious  assurance,  when  they  explain  the 
Lion's  tawny  mane  as  due  to  the  colour  of 
the  African  desert,  attribute  the  Tiger's  dark 
stripes  to  the  streaks  of  shadow  cast  by  the 
bamboos  and  extricate  any  number  of  other 
magnificent  things  with  the  same  facility  from 
the  mists  of  the  unknown,  I  should  not  be 
sorry  to  hear  what  they  have  to  say  of  the 
Melecta,  the  Crocisa  and  the  Anthrax  and  of 
the  origin  of  their  exceptional  costume. 

1Cf.  The  Life  of  the  Fly.  chap.  ii. — Translator's  Note. 
199 


The  Mason-bees 

The  word  "mimesis"  has  been  invented  for 
the  express  purpose  of  designating  the  ani- 
mal's supposed  faculty  of  adapting  itself  to 
its  environment  by  imitating  the  objects 
around  it,  at  least  in  the  matter  of  colouring. 
We  are  told  that  it  uses  this  faculty  to  baffle 
its  foes,  or  else  to  approach  its  prey  without 
alarming  it.  Finding  itself  the  better  for  this 
dissimulation,  a  source  of  prosperity  indeed, 
each  race,  sifted  by  the  struggle  for  life,  is 
considered  to  have  preserved  those  best- 
endowed  with  mimetic  powers  and  to  have 
allowed  the  others  to  become  extinct,  thus 
gradually  converting  into  a  fixed  characteristic 
what  at  first  was  but  a  casual  acquisition.  The 
Lark  became  earth-coloured  in  order  to  hide 
himself  from  the  eyes  of  the  bird  of  prey 
when  pecking  in  the  fields ;  the  Common  Liz- 
ard adopted  a  grass-green  tint  in  order  to 
blend  with  the  foliage  of  the  thickets  in  which 
he  lurks;  the  Cabbage-caterpillar  guarded 
against  the  bird's  beak  by  taking  the  colour 
of  the  plant  on  which  it  feeds.  And  so  with 
the  rest. 

In  my  callow  youth,  these  comparisons 
would  have  interested  me :  I  was  just  ripe  for 
that  kind  of  science.  In  the  evenings,  on  the 


Parasites 

straw  of  the  threshing-floor,  we  used  to  talk 
of  the  Dragon,  the  monster  which,  to  inveigle 
people  and  snap  them  up  with  greater  cert- 
ainty, became  indistinguishable  from  a  rock, 
the  trunk  of  a  tree,  a  bundle  of  twigs.  Since 
those  happy  days  of  artless  credulity,  scepti- 
cism has  chilled  my  imagination  to  some  ex- 
tent. By  way  of  a  parallel  with  the  three 
examples  which  I  have  quoted,  I  ask  myself 
why  the  White  Wagtail,  who  seeks  his  food 
in  the  furrows  as  does  the  Lark,  has  a  white 
shirt-front  surmounted  by  a  magnificent  black 
stock.  This  dress  is  one  of  those  most  easily 
picked  out  at  a  distance  against  the  rusty 
colours  of  the  soil.  Whence  comes  his  neglect 
to  practice  mimesis,  "protective  mimicry"? 
He  has  every  need  of  it,  poor  fellow,  quite 
as  much  as  his  companion  in  the  fields! 

Why  is  the  Eyed  Lizard  of  Provence  as 
green  as  the  Common  Lizard,  considering 
that  he  shuns  verdure  and  chooses  as  his 
haunt,  in  the  bright  sunlight,  some  chink  in 
the  naked  rocks  where  not  so  much  as  a  tuft 
of  moss  grows?  If,  to  capture  his  tiny  prey, 
his  brother  in  the  copses  and  the  hedges 
thought  it  necessary  to  dissemble  and  conse- 
quently to  dye  his  pearl-embroidered  coat, 

201 


The  Mason-bees 

how  comes  it  that  the  denizen  of  the  sun- 
blistered  rocks  persists  in  his  blue  and  green 
colouring,  which  at  once  betrays  him  against 
the  whity-grey  stone  ?  Indifferent  to  mimicry, 
is  he  the  less  skilful  Beetle-hunter  on  that 
account,  is  his  race  degenerating?  I  have 
studied  him  sufficiently  to  be  able  to  declare 
with  positive  certainty  that  he  continues  to 
thrive  both  in  numbers  and  in  vigour. 

Why  has  the  Spurge-caterpillar  adopted 
for  its  dress  the  gaudiest  colours  and  those 
which  contrast  most  with  the  green  of  the 
leaves  which  it  frequents?  Why  does  it 
flaunt  its  red,  black  and  white  in  patches 
clashing  violently  with  one  another?  Would 
it  not  be  worth  its  while  to  follow  the  exam- 
ple of  the  Cabbage-caterpillar  and  imitate  the 
verdure  of  the  plant  that  feeds  it?  Has  it  no 
enemies?  Of  course  it  has:  which  of  us,  ani- 
mals and  men,  has  not? 

A  string  of  these  whys  could  be  extended 
indefinitely.  It  would  give  me  amusement, 
did  my  time  permit  me,  to  counter  each  ex- 
ample of  protective  mimicry  with  a  host  of 
examples  to  the  contrary.  What  manner  of 
law  is  this  which  has  at  least  ninety-nine  ex- 
ceptions in  a  hundred  cases?  Poor  human 


Parasites 

nature !  There  is  a  deceptive  agreement  be- 
tween a  few  actual  facts  and  the  theory 
which  we  are  so  foolishly  ready  to  believe; 
and  straightway  we  interpret  the  facts  in  the 
light  of  the  theory.  In  a  speck  of  the  im- 
mense unknown  we  catch  a  glimpse  of  a 
phantom  truth,  a  shadow,  a  will-o'-the-wisp; 
once  the  atom  is  explained,  for  better  or 
worse,  we  imagine  that  we  hold  the  explana- 
tion of  the  universe  and  all  that  it  contains; 
and  we  forthwith  shout : 

"The  great  law  of  Nature!  Behold  the 
infallible  law !" 

Meanwhile,  the  discordant  facts,  an  in- 
numerable host,  clamour  at  the  gates  of  the 
law,  being  unable  to  gain  admittance. 

At  the  door  of  that  infinitely  restricted  law 
clamour  the  great  tribe  of  Golden  Wasps, 
whose  dazzling  splendour,  worthy  of  the 
wealth  of  Golconda,  clashes  with  the  dingy 
colour  of  their  haunts.  To  deceive  the  eyes 
of  their  bird-tyrants,  the  Swift,  the  Swallow, 
the  Chat  and  the  others,  these  Chrysis-wasps, 
who  glow  like  a  carbuncle,  like  a  nugget  in 
the  midst  of  its  dark  veinstone,  certainly  do 
not  adapt  themselves  to  the  sand  and  the  clay 
of  their  downs.  The  Green  Grasshopper,  so 
203 


The  Mason-bees 

we  are  told,  thought  out  a  plan  for  gulling 
his  enemies  by  identifying  himself  in  colour 
with  the  grass  in  which  he  dwells,  whereas  the 
Wasp,  so  rich  in  instinct  and  strategy,  allowed 
herself  to  be  distanced  in  the  race  by  the  dull- 
witted  Locust !  Rather  than  adapt  herself  as 
the  other  does,  she  persists  in  her  incredible 
splendour,  which  betrays  her  from  afar  to 
every  insect-eater  and  in  particular  to  the  little 
Grey  Lizard,  who  lies  hungrily  in  wait  for  her 
on  the  old  sun-tapestried  walls.  She  remains 
ruby,  emerald  and  turquoise  amidst  her  grey 
environment;  and  her  race  thrives  none  the 
worse. 

The  enemy  that  eats  you  is  not  the  only  one 
to  be  deceived;  mimesis  must  also  play  its 
colour-tricks  on  him  whom  you  have  to  eat. 
See  the  Tiger  in  his  jungle,  see  the  Praying 
Mantis  on  her  green  branch.1  Astute  mimicry 
is  even  more  necessary  when  the  one  to  be 
duped  is  an  amphytrion  at  whose  cost  the 
parasite's  family  is  to  be  established.  The 
Tachinae  seem  to  declare  as  much:  they  are 
grey  or  greyish,  of  a  colour  as  undecided  as 

1For  the  Praying  Mantis,  cf.  Social  Life  in  the  Insect 
World,  by  J.   H.   Fabre,  translated   by  Bernard   Miall: 
chaps,  v  to  vii. — Translator's  Note. 
204 


Parasites 

the  dusty  soil  on  which  they  cower  while  wait- 
ing for  the  arrival  of  the  huntress  laden  with 
her  capture.  But  they  dissemble  in  vain :  the 
Bembex,  the  Philanthus  and  the  others  see 
them  from  above,  before  touching  ground; 
they  recognize  them  perfectly  at  a  distance, 
despite  their  grey  costume.  And  so  they  hover 
prudently  above  the  burrow  and  strive,  by 
sudden  feints,  to  mislead  the  traitorous  little 
Fly,  who,  on  her  side,  knows  her  business  too 
well  to  allow  herself  to  be  enticed  away  or  to 
leave  the  spot  where  the  other  is  bound  to 
return.  No,  a  thousand  times  no:  clay- 
coloured  though  they  be,  the  Tachinae  have 
no  better  chance  of  attaining  their  ends  than  a 
host  of  other  parasites  whose  clothing  is  not 
of  grey  frieze  to  match  the  locality  fre- 
quented, as  witness  the  glittering  Chrysis,  or 
the  Melecta  and  the  Crocisa,  with  their  white 
spots  on  a  black  ground. 

We  are  also  told  that,  the  better  to  cozen 
his  amphytrion,  the  parasite  adopts  more  or 
less  the  same  shape  and  colouring;  he  turns 
himself,  in  appearance,  into  a  harmless  neigh- 
bour, a  worker  belonging  to  the  same  guild. 
Instance  the  Psithyrus,  who  lives  at  the  ex- 
pense of  the  Bumble-bee.  But  in  what,  if  you 
205 


The  Mason-bees 

please,  does  Parnopes  carnea  resemble  the 
Bembex  into  whose  home  she  penetrates  in 
her  presence?  In  what  does  the  Melecta  re- 
semble the  Anthophora,  who  stands  aside  on 
her  threshold  to  let  her  pass?  The  difference 
of  costume  is  most  striking.  The  Melecta's 
deep  mourning  has  naught  in  common  with 
the  Anthophora's  russet  coat.  The  Parnopes' 
emerald-and-carmine  thorax  possesses  not  the 
least  feature  of  resemblance  with  the 
black-and-yellow  livery  of  the  Bembex.  And 
this  Chrysis  also  is  a  dwarf  in  comparison 
with  the  ardent  Nimrod  who  goes  hunting 
Gad-flies. 

Besides,  what  a  curious  idea,  to  make  the 
parasite's  success  depend  upon  a  more  or  less 
faithful  likeness  with  the  insect  to  be  robbed! 
Why,  the  imitation  would  have  exactly  the 
opposite  effect!  With  the  exception  of  the 
Social  Bees,  who  work  at  a  common  task,  fail- 
ure would  be  certain,  for  here,  as  among  man- 
kind, two  of  a  trade  never  agree.  An  Osmia, 
an  Anthophora,  a  Mason-bee  had  better  be 
careful  not  to  poke  an  indiscreet  head  in  at 
her  neighbour's  door:  a  sound  drubbing 
would  soon  recall  her  to  a  sense  of  the  pro- 
prieties. She  might  easily  find  herself  with  a 
206 


Parasites 

dislocated  shoulder  or  a  mangled  leg  in  re- 
turn for  a  simple  visit  which  was  perhaps 
prompted  by  no  evil  intention.  Each  for  her- 
self in  her  own  stronghold.  But  let  a  para- 
site appear,  meditating  foul  play:  that's  a 
very  different  thing.  She  can  wear  the  trap- 
pings of  Harlequin  or  of  a  church-beadle ;  she 
can  be  the  Clerus-beetle,  in  wing-cases  of  ver- 
milion with  blue  trimmings,  or  the  Dioxys- 
bee,  with  a  red  scarf  across  her  black  abdo- 
men, and  the  mistress  of  the  house  will  let 
her  have  her  way,  or,  if  she  become  too  press- 
ing, will  drive  her  off  with  a  mere  flick  of  her 
wing.  With  her,  there  is  no  serious  fray,  no 
fierce  fight.  The  bludgeon  is  reserved  for  the 
friend  of  the  family.  Now  go  and  practise 
your  mimesis  in  order  to  receive  a  welcome 
from  the  Anthophora  or  the  Chalicodoma! 
A  few  hours  spent  with  the  insects  them- 
selves will  turn  any  one  into  a  hardened 
scoffer  at  these  artless  theories. 

To  sum  up,  mimesis,  in  my  eyes,  is  a  piece 
of  childishness.  Were  I  not  anxious  to  remain 
polite,  I  should  say  that  it  is  sheer  stupidity; 
and  the  word  would  express  my  meaning  bet- 
ter. The  variety  of  combinations  in  the  do- 
main of  possible  things  is  infinite.  It  is 
207 


The  Mason-bees 

undeniable  that,  here  and  there,  cases  occur 
in  which  the  animal  harmonizes  with  sur- 
rounding objects.  It  would  even  be  very 
strange  if  such  cases  were  excluded  from 
actuality,  since  everything  is  possible.  But 
these  rare  coincidences  are  faced,  under  ex- 
actly similar  conditions,  by  inconsistencies  so 
strongly  marked  and  so  numerous  that,  hav- 
ing frequency  on  their  side,  they  ought,  in  all 
logic,  to  serve  as  the  basis  of  the  law.  Here, 
one  fact  says  yes ;  there,  a  thousand  facts  say 
no.  To  which  evidence  shall  we  lend  an  ear? 
If  we  only  wish  to  bolster  up  a  theory,  it 
would  be  prudent  to  listen  to  neither.  The 
how  and  why  escapes  us;  what  we  dignify 
with  the  pretentious  title  of  a  law  is  but  a 
way  of  looking  at  things  with  our  mind,  a 
very  squint-eyed  way,  which  we  adopt  for  the 
requirements  of  our  case.  Our  would-be  laws 
contain  but  an  infinitesimal  shade  of  reality; 
often  indeed  they  are  but  puffed  out  with  vain 
imaginings.  Such  is  the  law  of  mimesis,  which 
explains  the  Green  Grasshopper  by  the  green 
leaves  in  which  this  Locust  settles  and  is  silent 
as  to  the  Crioceris,  that  coral-red  Beetle  who 
lives  on  the  no  less  green  leaves  of  the  lily. 
And  it  is  not  only  a  mistaken  interpreta- 


Parasites 

tion:  it  is  a  clumsy  pitfall  in  which  novices 
allow  themselves  to  be  caught.  Novices,  did 
I  say?  The  greatest  experts  themselves  fall 
into  the  trap.  One  of  our  masters  of  ento- 
mology did  me  the  honour  to  visit  my  labora- 
tory. I  was  showing  my  collection  of  para- 
sites. One  of  them,  clad  in  black  and  yellow, 
attracted  his  attention. 

"This,"  said  he,  "is  obviously  a  parasite  of 
the  Wasps." 

Surprised  at  the  statement,  I  interposed: 

"By  what  signs  do  you  know  her?" 

"Why  look:  it's  the  exact  colouring  of  the 
Wasp,  a  mixture  of  black  and  yellow.  It  is 
a  most  striking  case  of  mimesis." 

"Just  so;  nevertheless,  our  black-and-yellow 
friend  is  a  parasite  of  the  Chalicodoma  of  the 
Walls,  who  has  nothing  in  common,  either  in 
shape  or  colour,  with  the  Wasp.  This  is  a 
Leucospis,  not  one  of  whom  enters  the  Wasps' 
nests." 

"Then  mimesis  .    .    .  ?" 

"Mimesis  is  an  illusion  which  we  should 
do  well  to  relegate  to  oblivion." 

And,  with  the  evidence  in  front  of  him,  a 
whole  series  of  conclusive  examples,  my 
learned  visitor  admitted  with  a  good  grace 
209 


The  Mason-bees 

that  his  first  convictions  were  based  on  a  most 
ludicrous  foundation. 

A  piece  of  advice  to  beginners :  you  will  go 
wrong  a  thousand  times  for  once  that  you  are 
right,  if,  when  anxious  to  obtain  a  premature 
sight  of  the  probable  habits  of  an  insect,  you 
take  mimesis  as  your  guide.  With  mimesis 
above  all,  it  is  wise,  when  the  law  says  that 
a  thing  is  black,  first  to  enquire  whether  it 
does  not  happen  to  be  white. 

Let  us  go  on  to  more  serious  subjects  and 
enquire  into  parasitism  itself,  without  troub- 
ling any  longer  about  the  costume  of  the  para- 
site. According  to  etymology,  a  parasite  is 
one  who  eats  another's  bread,  one  who  lives 
on  the  provisions  of  others.  Entomology 
often  alters  this  term  from  its  real  meaning. 
Thus  it  describes  as  parasites  the  Chrysis,  the 
Mutilla,  the  Anthrax,  the  Leucospis,  all  of 
whom  feed  their  family  not  on  the  provisions 
amassed  by  others,  but  on  the  very  larvae 
which  have  consumed  those  provisions,  their 
actual  property.  When  the  Tachinae  have 
succeeded  in  laying  their  eggs  on  the  game 
warehoused  by  the  Bembex,  the  burrower's 
home  is  invaded  by  real  parasites,  in  the  strict 
sense  of  the  word.  Around  the  heap  of  Gad- 


Parasites 

flies,  collected  solely  for  the  children  of  the 
house,  new  guests  force  their  way,  numerous 
and  hungry,  and  without  the  least  ceremony 
plunge  into  the  thick  of  it.  They  sit  down  to 
a  table  that  was  not  laid  for  them;  they  eat 
side  by  side  with  the  lawful  owner;  and  this  in 
such  haste  that  he  dies  of  starvation,  though 
he  is  respected  by  the  teeth  of  the  interlopers 
who  have  gorged  themselves  on  his  portion. 

When  the  Melecta  has  substituted  her  egg 
for  the  Anthophora's,  here  again  we  see  a 
real  parasite  settling  in  the  usurped  cell.  The 
pile  of  honey  laboriously  gathered  by  the 
mother  will  not  even  be  broken  in  upon  by  the 
nurseling  for  which  it  was  intended.  Another 
will  profit  by  it,  with  none  to  say  him  nay. 
Tachinae  and  Melectae:  those  are  the  true 
parasites,  consumers  of  others'  goods. 

Can  we  say  as  much  of  the  Chrysis  or  the 
Mutilla?  In  no  wise.  The  Scolise,  whose 
habits  are  now  known  to  us,1  are  certainly  not 
parasites.  No  one  will  accuse  them  of  steal- 
ing the  food  of  others.  Zealous  workers,  they 
seek  and  find  under  ground  the  fat  grubs  on 

'The  habits  of  the  Scolia-wasp  have  been  described 
in  different  essays  not  yet  translated  into  English. — 
Translator's  Note. 

211 


The  Mason-bees 

which  their  family  will  feed.  They  follow 
the  chase  by  virtue  of  the  same  quality  as  the 
most  renowned  hunters,  Cerceris,  Sphex  or 
Ammophila;  only,  instead  of  removing  the 
game  to  a  special  lair,  they  leave  it  where  it 
is,  down  in  the  burrow.  Homeless  poachers, 
they  let  their  venison  be  consumed  on  the  spot 
where  it  is  caught. 

In  what  respect  do  the  Mutilla,  the  Chrysis, 
the  Leucospis,  the  Anthrax  and  so  many  others 
differ,  in  their  way  of  living,  from  the  Scolia  ? 
It  seems  to  me,  in  none.  See  for  yourselves. 
By  an  artifice  that  varies  according  to  the 
mother's  talent,  their  grubs,  either  in  the 
germ-stage  or  newly-born,  are  brought  into 
touch  with  the  victim  that  is  to  feed  them :  an 
unwounded  victim,  for  most  of  them  are  with- 
out a  sting;  a  live  victim,  but  steeped  in  the 
torpor  of  the  coming  transformations  and  thus 
delivered  without  defence  to  the  grub  that  is 
to  devour  it. 

With  them,  as  with  the  Scoliae,  meals  are 
made  on  the  spot  on  game  legitimately  ac- 
quired by  indefatigable  battues  or  by  patient 
stalking  in  which  all  the  rules  have  been  ob- 
served; only,  the  animal  hunted  is  defenceless 
and  does  not  need  to  be  laid  low  with  a  dag- 


Parasites 

ger-thrust.  To  seek  and  find  for  one's  larder 
a  torpid  prey  incapable  of  resistance  is,  if  you 
like,  less  meritorious  than  heroically  to  stab 
the  strong-jawed  Rose-chafer  or  Rhinoceros 
Beetle;  but  since  when  has  the  title  of  sports- 
man been  denied  to  him  who  blows  out  the 
brains  of  a  harmless  Rabbit,  instead  of  wait- 
ing without  flinching  for  the  furious  charge  of 
the  Wild  Boar  and  driving  his  hunting-knife 
into  him  behind  the  shoulder?  Besides,  if  the 
actual  assault  is  without  danger,  the  approach 
is  attended  with  a  difficulty  that  increases  the 
merit  of  these  second-rate  poachers.  The 
coveted  game  is  invisible.  It  is  confined  in 
the  stronghold  of  a  cell  and  moreover  pro- 
tected by  the  surrounding  wall  of  a  cocoon. 
Of  what  prowess  must  not  the  mother  be  ca- 
pable to  determine  the  exact  spot  at  which  it 
lies  and  to  lay  her  egg  on  its  side  or  at  least 
close  by  ?  For  these  reasons,  I  boldly  number 
the  Chrysis,  the  Mutilla  and  their  rivals 
among  the  hunters  and  reserve  the  ignoble 
title  of  parasites  for  the  Tachina,  the  Melecta, 
the  Crocisa,  the  Meloe-beetle,  in  short,  for  all 
those  who  feed  on  the  provisions  of  others. 

All  things  considered,  is  ignoble  the  right 
epithet  to  apply  to  parasitism?     No  doubt, 
213 


The  Mason-bees 

in  the  human  race,  the  idler  who  feeds  at 
other  people's  tables  is  contemptible  at  all 
points;  but  must  the  animal  bear  the  burden 
of  the  indignation  inspired  by  our  own  vices? 
Our  parasites,  our  scurvy  parasites,  live  at 
their  neighbour's  expense:  the  animal  never; 
and  this  changes  the  whole  aspect  of  the 
question.  I  know  of  no  instance,  not  one, 
excepting  man,  of  parasites  who  consume  the 
provisions  hoarded  by  a  worker  of  the  same 
species.  There  may  be,  here  and  there,  a 
few  cases  of  larceny,  of  casual  pillage  among 
hoarders  belonging  to  the  same  trade :  that  I 
am  quite  ready  to  admit,  but  it  does  not  affect 
things.  What  would  be  really  serious  and 
what  I  formally  deny  is  that,  in  the  same 
zoological  species,  there  should  be  some  who 
possessed  the  attribute  of  living  at  the  ex- 
pense of  the  rest.  In  vain  do  I  consult  my 
memory  and  my  notes :  my  long  entomological 
career  does  not  furnish  me  with  a  solitary 
example  of  such  a  misdeed  as  that  of  an  in- 
sect leading  the  life  of  a  parasite  upon  its 
fellows. 

When    the    Chalicodoma    of    the    Sheds 
works,  in  her  thousands,   at  her  Cyclopean 
edifice,  each  has  her  own  home,  a  sacred  home 
214 


Parasites 

where  not  one  of  the  tumultuous,  swarm,  ex- 
cept the  proprietress,  dreams  of  taking  a 
mouthful  of  honey.  It  is  as  though  there 
were  a  neighbourly  understanding  to  respect 
the  others'  rights.  Moreover,  if  some  heed- 
less one  mistakes  her  cell  and  as  much  as 
alights  on  the  rim  of  a  cup  that  does  not  be- 
long to  her,  forthwith  the  owner  appears, 
admonishes  her  severely  and  soon  calls  her 
to  order.  But,  if  the  store  of  honey  is  the 
estate  of  some  deceased  Bee,  or  of  some  wan- 
derer unduly  prolonging  her  absence,  then — 
and  then  alone — a  kinswoman  seizes  upon  it. 
The  goods  were  waste  property,  which  she 
turns  to  account;  and  it  is  a  very  proper 
economy.  The  other  Bees  and  Wasps  be- 
have likewise :  never,  I  say  never,  do  we  find 
among  them  an  idler  assiduously  planning  the 
conquest  of  her  neighbour's  possessions.  No 
insect  is  a  parasite  on  its  own  species. 

What  then  is  parasitism,  if  one  must  look 
for  it  among  animals  of  different  races?  Life 
in  general  is  but  a  vast  brigandage.  Nature 
devours  herself;  matter  is  kept  alive  by  pass- 
ing from  one  stomach  into  another.  At  the 
banquet  of  life,  each  is  in  turn  the  guest  and 
the  dish;  the  eater  of  to-day  becomes  the  eaten 
215 


The  Mason-bees 

of  to-morrow;  hodie  tlbl,  eras  mihi.  Every- 
thing lives  on  that  which  lives  or  has  lived; 
everything  is  parasitism.  Man  is  the  great 
parasite,  the  unbridled  thief  of  all  that  is 
fit  to  eat.  He  steals  the  milk  from  the  Lamb, 
he  steals  the  honey  from  the  children  of  the 
Bee,  even  as  the  Melecta  pilfers  the  pottage 
of  the  Anthophora's  sons.  The  two  cases 
are  similiar.  Is  it  the  vice  of  indolence  ?  No, 
it  is  the  fierce  law  which  for  the  life  of  the 
one  exacts  the  death  of  the  other. 

In  this  implacable  struggle  of  devourers 
and  devoured,  of  pillagers  and  pillaged,  of 
robbers  and  robbed,  the  Melecta  deserves  no 
more  than  we  the  title  of  ignoble:  in  ruining 
the  Anthophora,  she  is  but  imitating  man  in 
one  detail,  man  who  is  the  infinite  source  of 
destruction.  Her  parasitism  is  no  blacker 
than  ours:  she  has  to  feed  her  offspring;  and, 
possessing  no  harvesting-tools,  ignorant  be- 
sides of  the  art  of  harvesting,  she  uses  the 
provisions  of  others  who  are  better  endowed 
with  implements  and  talents.  In  the  fierce 
riot  of  empty  bellies,  she  does  what  she  can 
with  the  gifts  at  her  disposal. 


216 


CHAPTER   IX 

THE   THEORY   OF   PARASITISM 

THE  Melecta  does  what  she  can  with  the 
gifts  at  her  disposal.  I  should  leave  it 
at  that,  if  I  had  not  to  take  into  considera- 
tion a  grave  charge  brought  against  her.  She 
is  accused  of  having  lost,  for  want  of  use  and 
through  laziness,  the  workman's  tools  with 
which,  so  we  are  told,  she  was  originally  en- 
dowed. Finding  it  to  her  advantage  to  do 
nothing,  bringing  up  her  family  free  of  ex- 
pense, to  the  detriment  of  others,  she  is  al- 
leged to  have  gradually  inspired  her  race  with 
an  abhorrence  for  work.  The  harvesting- 
tools,  less  and  less  often  employed,  dwindled 
and  as  organs  having  no  function ;  the  species 
changed  into  a  different  one ;  and  finally  idle- 
ness turned  the  honest  worker  of  the  outset 
into  a  parasite.  This  brings  us  to  a  very 
simple  and  seductive  theory  of  parasitism, 
worthy  to  be  discussed  with  all  respect.  Let 
us  set  it  forth. 

Some  mother,  nearing  the  end  of  her  la- 
217 


The  Mason-bees 

hours  and  in  a  hurry  to  lay  her  eggs,  found, 
let  us  suppose,  some  suitable  cells  provisioned 
by  her  fellows.  There  was  no  time  for  nest- 
building  and  foraging;  if  she  would  save  her 
family,  she  must  perforce  appropriate  the 
fruit  of  another's  toil.  Thus  relieved  of  the 
tedium  and  fatigue  of  work,  freed  of  every 
care  but  that  of  laying  eggs,  she  left  a  pro- 
geny which  duly  inherited  the  maternal  sloth- 
fulness  and  handed  this  down  in  its  turn,  in 
a  more  and  more  accentuated  form,  as  gen- 
eration followed  on  generation ;  for  the  strug- 
gle for  life  made  this  expeditious  way  of  es- 
tablishing yourself  one  of  the  most  favour- 
able conditions  for  the  success  of  the  off- 
spring. At  the  same  time,  the  organs  of 
work,  left  unemployed,  became  atrophied  and 
disappeared,  while  certain  details  of  shape 
and  colouring  were  modified  more  or  less,  so 
as  to  adapt  themselves  to  the  new  circum- 
stances. Thus  the  parasitic  race  was  definite- 
ly established. 

This  race,  however,  was  not  too  greatly 
transformed  for  us  to  be  able,  in  certain 
cases,  to  trace  its  origin.  The  parasite  has 
retained  more  than  one  feature  of  those  in- 
dustrious ancestors.  So,  for  instance,  the 
318 


The  Theory  of  Parasitism 

Psithyrus  is  extremely  like  the  Bumble-bee, 
whose  parasite  and  descendant  she  is.  The 
Stelis  preserves  the  ancestral  characteristics 
of  the  Anthidium;  the  Coelioxys-bee  recalls 
the  Leaf-cutter. 

Thus  speak  the  evolutionists,  with  a  wealth 
of  evidence  derived  not  only  from  correspond- 
ence in  general  appearance,  but  also  from 
similarity  in  the  most  minute  particulars.' 
Nothing  is  small :  I  am  as  much  convinced  of 
that  as  any  man;  and  I  admire  the  extraor- 
dinary precision  of  the  details  furnished  as  a 
basis  for  the  theory.  But  am  I  convinced? 
Rightly  or  wrongly,  my  turn  of  mind  does 
not  hold  minutiae  of  structure  in  great  fa- 
vour: a  joint  of  the  palpi  leaves  me  rather 
cold;  a  tuft  of  bristles  does  not  appear  to  me 
an  unanswerable  argument.  I  prefer  to  quest- 
ion the  creature  direct  and  to  let  it  describe 
its  passions,  its  mode  of  life,  its  aptitudes. 
Having  heard  its  evidence,  we  shall  see  what 
becomes  of  the  theory  of  parasitism. 

Before  calling  upon  it  to  speak,  why  should 
I  not  say  what  I  have  on  my  mind?  And 
mark  me,  first  of  all,  I  do  not  like  that  lazi- 
ness which  is  said  to  favour  the  animal's  pro- 
sperity. I  have  always  believed  and  I  still 
219 


The  Mason-bees 

persist  in  believing  that  activity  alone 
strengthens  the  present  and  ensures  the  fu- 
ture both  of  animals  and  men.  To  act  is  to 
live;  to  work  is  to  go  forward.  The  energy 
of  a  race  is  measured  by  the  aggregate  of  its 
action. 

No,  I  do  not  like  it  at  all,  this  idleness  so 
much  commended  of  science.  We  have  quite 
enough  of  these  zoological  brutalities :  man, 
the  son  of  the'  Ape ;  duty,  a  foolish  prejudice ; 
conscience,  a  lure  for  the  simple ;  genius,  neu- 
rosis; patriotism,  jingo  heroics;  the  soul,  a 
product  of  protoplasmic  energies;  God,  a 
puerile  myth.  Let  us  raise  the  war-whoop 
and  go  out  for  scalps;  we  are  here  only  to 
devour  one  another;  the  summum  bonum  is 
the  Chicago  packer's  dollar-chest !  Enough, 
quite  enough  of  that,  without  having  trans- 
formism  next,  to  break  down  the  sacred  law 
of  work.  I  will  not  hold  it  responsible  for 
our  moral  ruin;  it  has  not  a  sturdy  enough 
shoulder  to  effect  such  a  breach;  but  still  it 
has  done  its  worst. 

No,  once  more,  I  do  not  like  those  brutali- 
ties which,  denying  all  that  gives  some  dig- 
nity to  our  wretched  life,  stifle  our  horizon 
under  an  extinguisher  of  matter.  Oh,  don't 


The  Theory  of  Parasitism 

come  and  forbid  me  to  think,  though  it  were 
but  a  dream,  of  a  responsible  human  person- 
ality, of  conscience,  of  duty,  of  the  dignity 
of  labour!  Everything  is  linked  together: 
if  the  animal  is  better  off,  as  regards  both 
itself  and  its  race,  for  doing  nothing  and  ex- 
ploiting others,  why  should  man,  its  descend- 
ant, show  greater  scruples?  The  principle 
that  idleness  is  the  mother  of  prosperity 
would  carry  us  far  indeed.  I  have  said 
enough  on  my  own  account;  I  will  call  upon 
the  animals  themselves,  more  eloquent  than  I. 
Are  we  so  very  sure  that  parasitic  habits 
come  from  a  love  of  inaction?  Did  the  para- 
site become  what  he  is  because  he  found  it 
excellent  to  do  nothing?  Is  repose  so  great  an 
advantage  to  him  that  he  abjured  his  ancient 
customs  in  order  to  obtain  it?  Well,  since 
I  have  been  studying  the  Bee  who  endows 
her  family  with  the  property  of  others,  I  have 
not  yet  seen  anything  in  her  that  points  to 
slothfulness.  On  the  contrary,  the  parasite 
leads  a  laborious  life,  harder  than  that  of  the 
worker.  Watch  her  on  a  slope  blistered  by 
the  sun.  How  busy  she  is,  how  anxious ! 
How  briskly  she  covers  every  inch  of  the  ra- 
diant expanse,  how  indefatigable  she  is  in 


The  Mason-bees 

her  endless  quests,  in  her  visits,  which  are 
generally  fruitless !  Before  coming  upon  a 
nest  that  suits  her,  she  has  dived  a  hundred 
times  into  cavities  of  no  value,  into  galleries 
not  yet  victualled.  And  then,  however  kindly 
her  host,  the  parasite  is  not  always  well  re- 
ceived in  the  hostelry.  No,  it  is  not  all  roses 
in  her  trade.  The  expenditure  of  time  and 
labour  which  she  finds  necessary  in  order  to 
house  an  egg  may  easily  equal  or  even  exceed 
that  of  the  worker  in  building  her  cell  and 
filling  it  with  honey.  That  industrious  one 
has  regular  and  continuous  work,  an  excel- 
lent condition  for  success  in  her  egg-laying; 
the  other  has  a  thankless  and  precarious  task, 
at  the  mercy  of  a  thousand  accidents  which 
endanger  the  great  undertaking  of  installing 
the  eggs.  One  has  only  to  watch  the  pro- 
longed hesitation  of  a  Coelioxys  seeking  for 
the  Leaf-cutters'  cells  to  recognize  that  the 
usurpation  of  another's  nest  is  not  effected 
without  serious  difficulties.  If  she  turned 
parasite  in  order  to  make  the  rearing  of  her 
offspring  easier  and  more  prosperous,  cert- 
ainly she  was  very  ill-inspired.  Instead  of 
rest,  hard  work;  instead  of  a  flourishing 
family,  a  meagre  progeny. 


The  Theory  of  Parasitism 

To  generalities,  which  are  necessarily 
vague,  we  will  add  some  precise  facts.  A 
certain  Stelis  (Stelis  nasuta,  LATR.)  is  a 
parasite  of  the  Chalicodoma  of  the  Walls. 
When  the  Mason-bee  has  finished  building 
her  dome  of  cells  upon  her  pebble,  the  para- 
site appears,  makes  a  long  inspection  of  the 
outside  of  the  home  and  proposes,  puny  as 
she  is,  to  introduce  her  eggs  into  this  cement 
fortress.  Everything  is  most  carefully  closed : 
a  layer  of  rough  plaster,  at  least  two-fifths  of 
an  inch  thick,  entirely  covers  the  central  ac- 
cumulation of  cells,  which  are  each  of  them 
sealed  with  a  thick  mortar  plug.  And  it  is 
the  honey  of  these  well-guarded  chambers 
that  has  to  be  reached  by  piercing  a  wall  al- 
most as  hard  as  rock. 

The  parasite  pluckily  sets  to ;  the  idler  be- 
comes a  glutton  for  work.  Atom  by  atom, 
she  perforates  the  general  enclosure  and 
scoops  out  a  shaft  just  sufficient  for  her  pas- 
sage; she  reaches  the  lid  of  the  cell  and 
gnaws  it  until  the  coveted  provisions  appear 
in  sight.  It  is  a  slow  and  painful  process, 
in  which  the  feeble  Stelis  wears  herself  out, 
for  the  mortar  is  much  the  same  as  Roman 
cement  in  hardness.  I  find  difficulty  myself 
223 


The  Mason-bees 

in  breaking  it  with  the  point  of  my  knife. 
What  patient  effort,  then,  the  task  requires 
from  the  parasite,  with  her  tiny  pincers! 

I  do  not  know  exactly  how  long  the  Stelis 
takes  to  make  her  entrance-shaft,  as  I  have 
never  had  the  opportunity  or  rather  the  pa- 
tience to  follow  the  work  from  start  to  finish ; 
but  what  I  do  know  is  that  a  Chalicodoma 
of  the  Walls,  incomparably  larger  and 
stronger  than  the  parasite,  when  demolishing 
before  my  eyes  the  lid  of  a  cell  sealed  only 
the  day  before,  was  unable  to  complete  her 
undertaking  in  one  afternoon.  I  had  to  come 
to  her  assistance  in  order  to  discover,  before 
the  end  of  the  day,  the  object  of  her  house- 
breaking.  When  the  Mason-bee's  mortar 
has  once  set,  its  resistance  is  that  of  stone. 
Now  the  Stelis  has  not  only  to  pierce  the  lid 
of  the  honey-store;  she  must  also  pierce  the 
general  casing  of  the  nest.  What  a  time  it 
must  take  her  to  get  through  such  a  task,  a 
gigantic  one  for  her  poor  tools ! 

It  is  done  at  last,  after  infinite  labour.  The 
honey  appears.  The  Stelis  slips  through  and, 
on  the  surface  of  the  provisions,  side  by  side 
with  the  Chalicodoma's  egg,  which  is  re- 
spected, she  lays  her  own  eggs,  the  number 
224 


The  Theory  of  Parasitism 

varying  from  time  to  time.  The  victuals 
will  be  the  common  property  of  all  the  new 
arrivals,  whether  the  sons  of  the  house  or 
strangers. 

The  violated  dwelling  cannot  remain  as  it 
is,  exposed  to  marauders  from  without ;  the 
parasite  must  herself  wall  up  the  breach 
which  she  has  contrived.  The  quondam  house- 
breaker becomes  a  builder.  At  the  foot  of 
the  pebble,  the  Stelis  collects  a  little  of  that 
red  earth  which  characterizes  our  stony  pla- 
teaus grown  with  lavender  and  thyme;  she 
makes  it  into  mortar  by  wetting  it  with  sa- 
liva; and  with  the  pellets  thus  prepared  she 
fills  up  the  entrance-shaft,  displaying  all  the 
care  and  art  of  a  regular  master-mason. 
Only,  the  work  clashes  in  colour  with  the 
Chalicodoma's.  The  Bee  goes  and  gathers 
her  cementing-powder  on  the  adjoining  high- 
road, the  metal  of  which  consists  of  broken 
flint-stones,  and  very  seldom  uses  the  red 
earth  under  the  boulder  supporting  the  nest. 
This  choice  is  apparently  dictated  by  the  fact 
that  the  chemical  properties  of  the  former 
are  more  likely  to  produce  a  solid  structure. 
The  lime  of  the  road,  mixed  with  saliva, 
yields  a  harder  cement  than  red  clay  would 
225 


The  Mason-bees 

do.  At  any  rate,  the  Chalicodoma's  nest  is 
more  or  less  white  because  of  the  source  of 
its  materials.  When  a  red  speck,  a  few  milli- 
metres wide,  appears  on  this  pale  background, 
it  is  a  sure  sign  that  a  Stelis  has  been  that 
way.  Open  the  cell  that  lies  under  the  red 
stain:  we  shall  find  the  parasite's  numerous 
family  established  there.  The  rusty  spot  is 
an  infallible  indication  that  the  dwelling  has 
been  violated:  at  least,  it  is  so  in  my  neigh- 
bourhood, where  the  soil  is  as  I  have  de- 
scribed. 

We  see  the  Stelis,  therefore,  at  first  a  rabid 
miner,  using  her  mandibles  against  the  rock; 
next  a  kneader  of  clay  and  a  plasterer  restor- 
ing broken  ceilings.  Her  trade  does  not  seem 
one  of  the  least  arduous.  Now  what  did  she 
do  before  she  took  to  parasitism?  Judging 
from  her  appearance,  the  transformists  tell 
us  that  she  was  an  Anthidium,  that  is  to  say, 
she  used  to  gather  the  soft  cotton-wool  from 
the  dry  stalks  of  the  lanate  plants  and  make 
it  into  wallets,  in  which  to  heap  up  the 
pollen-dust  which  she  gleaned  from  the  flow- 
ers by  means  of  a  brush  carried  on  her  ab- 
domen. Or  else,  springing  from  a  genus 
akin  to  the  cotton-workers,  she  used  to  build 
226 


The  Theory  of  Parasitism 

resin  partitions  in  the  spiral  stairway  of  a 
dead  Snail.  Such  was  the  trade  driven  by  her 
ancestors. 

Really!  So,  to  avoid  slow  and  painful 
work,  to  achieve  an  easy  life,  to  give  herself 
the  leisure  favourable  to  the  settlement  of  her 
family,  the  erstwhile  cotton-weaver  or  col- 
lector of  resin-drops  took  to  gnawing  hard- 
ened cement !  She  who  once  sipped  the  nec- 
tar of  flowers  made  up  her  mind  to  chew  con- 
crete !  Why,  the  poor  wretch  toils  at  her  filing 
like  a  galley-slave!  She  spends  more  time 
in  ripping  up  a  cell  than  it  would  take  her  to 
make  a  cotton  wallet  and  fill  it  with  food. 
If  she  really  meant  to  progress,  to  do  better 
in  her  own  interest  and  that  of  her  family, 
by  abandoning  the  delicate  occupations  of 
the  old  days,  we  must  confess  that  she  has 
made  a  strange  mistake.  The  mistake  would 
be  no  greater  if  fingers  accustomed  to  fancy 
weaving  were  to  lay  aside  velvet  and  silk  and 
proceed  to  handle  the  quarryman's  blocks  or 
to  break  stones  on  the  roadside. 

No,  the  animal  does  not  commit  the  folly 

of  voluntarily  embittering  its  lot;  it  does  not, 

in  obedience  to  the  promptings  of  idleness, 

give  up  one  condition  to  ejnbrace  another  and 

227 


The  Mason-bees 

a  more  irksome;  should  it  blunder  for  once, 
it  will  not  inspire  its  posterity  with  a  wish  to 
persevere  in  a  costly  delusion.  No,  the  Stelis 
never  abandoned  the  delicate  art  of  cotton- 
weaving  to  break  down  walls  and  to  grind 
cement,  a  class  of  work  far  too  unattractive 
to  efface  the  memory  of  the  joys  of  harvesting 
amid  the  flowers.  Indolence  has  not  evolved 
her  from  an  Anthidium.  She  has  always 
been  what  she  is  to-day :  a  patient  artificer  in 
her  own  line,  a  steady  worker  at  the  task  that 
has  fallen  to  her  share. 

That  hurried  mother  who  first,  in  remote 
ages,  broke  into  the  abode  of  her  fellows  to 
secure  a  home  for  her  eggs  found  this  un- 
scrupulous method,  so  you  tell  us,  very  fa- 
vourable to  the  success  of  her  race,  by  virtue 
of  its  economy  of  time  and  trouble.  The  im- 
pression left  by  this  new  policy  was  so  pro- 
found that  heredity  bequeathed  it  to  post- 
erity, in  ever-increasing  proportions,  until  at 
last  parasitic  habits  became  definitely  fixed. 
The  Chalicodoma  of  the  Sheds,  followed  by 
the  Three-horned  Osmia,  will  teach  us  what 
to  think  of  this  conjecture. 

I  have  described  in  an  earlier  chapter  my  in- 
stallation of  Chalicodoma-hives  against  the 


The  Theory  of  Parasitism 

walls  of  a  porch  facing  the  south.  Here,  on  a 
level  with  my  head,  placed  so  that  they  can 
easily  be  observed,  hang  some  tiles  removed 
from  the  neighbouring  roofs  in  winter,  to- 
gether with  their  enormous  nests  and  their 
occupants.  Every  May,  for  five  or  six  years  in 
succession,  I  have  assiduously  watched  the 
works  of  my  Mason-bees.  From  the  mass  of 
my  notes  on  the  subject  I  take  the  following 
experiments  which  bear  upon  the  matter  un- 
der discussion. 

Long  ago,  when  I  used  to  scatter  a  handful 
of  Chalicodomae  some  way  from  home,  in 
order  to  study  their  capacity  for  finding  their 
nest  again,  I  noticed  that,  if  they  were  too 
long  absent,  the  laggards  found  their  cells 
closed  on  their  return.  Neighbours  had 
taken  the  opportunity  to  lay  their  eggs  there, 
after  finishing  the  building  and  stocking  it 
with  provisions.  The  abandoned  property 
benefited  another.  On  realizing  the  usurpa- 
tion, the  Bee  returning  from  her  long  journey 
soon  consoled  herself  for  the  mishap.  She 
began  to  break  the  seals  of  some  cell  or  other, 
adjoining  her  own;  the  rest  let  her  have  her 
way,  being  doubtless  too  busy  with  their  pre- 
sent labours  to  seek  a  quarrel  with  the  free- 
229 


The  Mason-bees 

hooter.  As  soon  as  she  had  destroyed  the 
lid,  the  Bee,  with  a  sort  of  feverish  haste  that 
burned  to  repay  theft  by  theft,  did  a  little 
building,  did  a  little  victualling,  as  though  to 
resume  the  thread  of  her  occupations,  de- 
stroyed the  egg  in  being,  laid  her  own  and 
closed  the  cell  again.  Here  was  a  touch  of 
nature  that  deserved  careful  examination. 

At  eleven  o'clock  in  the  morning,  when  the 
work  is  at  its  height,  I  mark  half  a  score  of 
Chalicodomas  with  different  colours,  to  dis- 
tinguish them  from  one  another.  Some  are 
occupied  with  building,  others  are  disgorg- 
ing honey.  I  mark  the  corresponding  cells  in 
the  same  way.  As  soon  as  the  marks  are 
quite  dry,  I  catch  the  ten  Bees,  place  them 
singly  in  screws  of  paper  and  shut  them  all  in 
a  box  until  the  next  morning.  After  twenty- 
four  hours'  captivity,  the  prisoners  are  re- 
leased. During  their  absence,  their  cells  have 
disappeared  under  a  layer  of  recent  struct- 
ures; or,  if  still  exposed  to  view,  they  are 
closed  and  others  have  made  use  of  them. 

As  soon  as  they  are   free,  the  ten  Bees, 

with  one  exception,  return  to  their  respective 

tiles.     They  do  more  than  this,  so  accurate 

is  their  memory,  despite  the  confusion  result- 

230 


The  Theory  of  Parasitism 

ing  from  a  prolonged  incarceration:  they  re- 
turn to  the  cell  which  they  have  built,  the  be- 
loved stolen  cell ;  they  minutely  explore  the 
outside  of  it,  or  at  least  what  lies  nearest  to 
it,  if  the  cell  has  disappeared  under  the  new 
structures.  In  cases  where  the  home  is  not 
henceforward  inaccessible,  it  is  at  least  occu- 
pied by  a  strange  egg  and  the  door  is  securely 
fastened.  To  this  reverse  of  fortune  the 
ousted  ones  retort  with  the  brutal  lex  tali- 
onls:  an  egg  for  an  egg,  a  cell  for  a  cell. 
You've  stolen  my  house;  I'll  steal  yours. 
And,  without  much  hesitation,  they  proceed 
to  force  the  lid  of  a  cell  that  suits  them. 
Sometimes  they  recover  possession  of  their 
own  home,  if  it  is  possible  to  get  into  it ;  some- 
times and  more  frequently  they  seize  upon 
some  one  else's  dwelling,  even  at  a  consider- 
able distance  from  their  original  dwelling. 

Patiently  they  gnaw  the  mortar  lid.  As  the 
general  rough-cast  covering  all  the  cells  is  not 
applied  until  the  end  of  the  work,  all  that 
they  need  do  is  to  demolish  the  lid,  a  hard 
and  wearisome  task,  but  not  beyond  the 
strength  of  their  mandibles.  They  therefore 
attack  the  door,  the  cement  disk,  and  reduce 
it  to  dust.  The  criminal  is  allowed  to  carry 
231 


The  Mason-bees 

out  her  nefarious  designs  without  the  slight- 
est interference  or  protest  from  any  of  her 
neighbours,  though  these  must  necessarily  in- 
clude the  chief  party  interested.  The  Bee  is 
as  forgetful  of  her  cell  of  yesterday  as  she  is 
jealous  of  her  actual  cell.  To  her  the  present 
is  everything;  the  past  means  nothing;  and 
the  future  means  no  more.  The  people  of 
the  tile  therefore  leave  the  breakers  of  doors 
to  do  their  business  in  peace ;  none  hastens  to 
the  defence  of  a  home  that  might  well  be  her 
own.  How  differently  things  would  happen 
if  the  cell  were  still  on  the  stocks!  But  it 
dates  back  to  yesterday,  to  the  day  before; 
and  no  one  gives  it  another  thought. 

It's  done:  the  lid  is  demolished,  access  is 
free.  For  some  time  the  Bee  stands  bending 
over  the  cell,  her  head  half-buried  in  it,  as 
though  in  contemplation.  She  goes  away, 
she  returns  undecidedly;  at  last  she  makes  up 
her  mind.  The  egg  is  snapped  up  from  the 
surface  of  the  honey  and  flung  on  the  rubbish- 
heap  with  no  more  ceremony  than  if  the  Bee 
were  ridding  the  house  of  a  bit  of  dirt.  I 
have  witnessed  this  hideous  crime  again  and 
yet  again;  I  confess  to  having  repeatedly  pro- 
voked it.  In  housing  her  egg,  the  Mason-bee 
232 


The  Theory  of  Parasitism 

displays  a  brutal  indifference  to  the  fate  of 
her  neighbour's  egg. 

I  see  some  of  them  afterward  busy  pro- 
visioning, disgorging  honey  and  brushing  pol- 
len into  the  cell  already  completely  provi- 
sioned; I  see  some  masoning  a  little  at  the 
orifice,  or  at  least  laying  on  a  few  trowels  of 
mortar.  It  seems  as  if  the  Bee,  although  the 
victuals  and  the  building  are  just  as  they 
should  be,  were  resuming  the  work  at  the 
point  at  which  she  left  it  twenty-four  hours 
before.  Lastly,  the  egg  is  laid  and  the  open- 
ing closed  up.  Of  my  captives,  one,  less  pa- 
tient than  the  rest,  rejects  the  slow  process  of 
eating  away  the  cover  and  decides  in  favour 
of  robbery  with  violence,  on  the  principle  that 
might  is  right.  She  dislodges  the  owner  of  a 
half-stocked  cell,  keeps  good  watch  for  a  long 
time  on  the  threshold  of  the  home  and,  when 
she  feels  herself  the  mistress  of  the  house, 
goes  on  with  the  provisioning.  I  follow  the 
ousted  proprietress  with  my  eyes.  I  see  her 
seize  upon  a  closed  cell  by  breaking  into  it  and 
behave  in  all  respects  like  my  imprisoned 
Chalicodomae. 

The  whole  occurrence  was  too  significant 
to  be  left  without  further  confirmation.  I 
233 


The  Mason-bees 

repeated  the  experiment,  therefore,  almost 
every  year,  always  with  the  same  success.  I 
can  only  add  that,  among  the  Bees  placed  by 
my  artifices  under  the  necessity  of  making  up 
for  lost  time,  a  few  are  of  a  more  easy-going 
temperament.  I  see  some  building  anew,  as 
if  nothing  out  of  the  way  had  happened; 
others — this  is  a  very  rare  course — going  to 
settle  on  another  tile,  as  though  to  avoid  a 
society  of  thieves;  and  lastly  a  few  who  bring 
pellets  of  mortar  and  zealously  finish  the  lid 
of  their  own  cell,  although  it  contains  a 
strange  egg.  However,  housebreaking  is  the 
usual  thing. 

One  more  detail  not  without  value:  it  is 
not  necessary  for  you  to  intervene  and  im- 
prison Mason-bees  for  a  time  in  order  to  wit- 
ness the  acts  of  violence  which  I  have  de- 
scribed. If  you  follow  the  work  of  the  swarm 
assiduously,  you  may  occasionally  find  a  sur- 
prise awaiting  you.  A  Mason-bee  will  appear 
and,  for  no  reason  known  to  you,  break  open 
a  door  and  lay  her  egg  in  the  violated  cell. 
From  what  goes  before,  I  look  upon  the  Bee 
as  a  laggard,  kept  away  from  the  workyard 
by  an  accident,  or  else  carried  to  a  distance 
by  a  gust  of  wind.  On  returning  after  an 
234 


The  Theory  of  Parasitism 

absence  of  some  duration,  she  finds  her  place 
taken,  her  cell  used  by  another.  The  victim 
of  an  usurper's  villainy,  like  the  prisoners  in 
my  paper  screws,  she  behaves  as  they  do  and 
indemnifies  herself  for  her  loss  by  breaking 
into  another's  home. 

Lastly,  it  was  a  matter  of  learning  the  be- 
haviour, after  their  act  of  violence,  of  the 
Masons  who  have  smashed  in  a  door,  bru- 
tally expelled  the  egg  within  and  replaced  it 
by  one  of  their  own  laying.  When  the  lid  is 
repaired  to  look  as  good  as  new  and  every- 
thing restored  to  order,  will  they  continue 
their  burglarious  ways  and  exterminate  the 
eggs  of  others  to  make  room  for  their  own? 
By  no  means.  Revenge,  that  pleasure  of  the 
gods  and  perhaps  also  of  Bees,  is  satisfied 
after  one  cell  has  been  ripped  open.  All 
anger  is  appeased  when  the  egg  for  which  so 
much  work  has  been  done  is  safely  housed. 
Henceforth,  both  prisoners  and  stray  laggards 
resume  their  ordinary  labours,  indifferently 
with  the  rest.  They  build  honestly,  they  pro- 
vision honestly,  nor  meditate  further  evil. 
The  past  is  quite  forgotten  until  a  fresh  dis- 
aster occurs. 

To  return  to  the  parasites:  a  mother 
235 


The  Mason-bees 

chanced  to  find  herself  the  mistress  of  an- 
other's nest.  She  took  advantage  of  this  to 
entrust  her  egg  to  it.  This  expeditious 
method,  so  easy  for  the  mother  and  so  fa- 
vourable to  the  success  of  her  offspring,  made 
such  an  impression  on  her  that  she  transmitted 
the  maternal  indolence  to  her  posterity. 
Thus  the  worker  gradually  became  trans- 
formed into  a  parasite. 

Capital !  The  thing  goes  like  clockwork, 
as  long  as  we  have  only  to  put  our  ideas  on 
paper.  But  let  us  just  consult  the  facts,  if  you 
don't  mind;  before  arguing  about  probabili- 
ties, let  us  look  into  things  as  they  are.  Here 
is  the  Mason-bee  of  the  Sheds  teaching  us 
something  very  curious.  To  smash  the  lid  of 
a  cell  that  does  not  belong  to  her,  to  throw 
the  egg  out  of  doors  and  put  her  own  in  its 
place  is  a  practice  which  she  has  followed 
since  time  began.  There  is  no  need  of  my 
interference  to  make  her  commit  burglary: 
she  commits  it  of  her  own  accord,  when  her 
rights  are  prejudiced  as  the  result  of  a  too- 
long  absence.  Ever  since  her  race  has  been 
kneading  cement,  she  has  known  the  law  of 
retaliation.  Countless  ages,  such  as  the  evo- 
lutionists require,  have  made  her  adopt  forci- 
236 


The  Theory  of  Parasitism 

ble  usurpation  as  an  inveterate  habit.  More- 
over, robbery  is  so  incomparably  easy  for  the 
mother.  No  more  cement  to  scratch  up  with 
her  mandibles  on  the  hard  ground,  no  more 
mortar  to  knead,  no  more  clay  walls  to  build, 
no  more  pollen  to  gather  on  hundreds  and 
hundreds  of  journeys.  All  is  ready,  board 
and  lodging.  Never  was  a  better  opportunity 
for  allowing  one's  self  a  good  time.  There 
is  nothing  against  it.  The  others,  the  work- 
ers, are  imperturbable  in  their  good-humour. 
Their  outraged  cells  leave  them  profoundly 
indifferent.  There  are  no  brawls  to  fear,  no 
protests.  Now  or  never  is  the  moment  to 
tread  the  primrose  path. 

Besides,  your  progeny  will  be  all  the  better 
for  it.  You  can  choose  the  warmest  and 
wholesomest  spots;  you  can  multiply  your 
laying-operations  by  devoting  to  them  all  the 
time  that  you  would  have  to  spend  on  irksome 
occupations.  If  the  impression  produced  by 
the  violent  seizure  of  another's  property  is 
strong  enough  to  be  handed  down  by  heredity, 
how  deep  should  be  the  impression  of  the 
actual  moment  when  the  Mason-bee  is  in  the 
first  flush  of  success!  The  precious  advant- 
age is  fresh  in  the  memory,  dating  from  that 
237 


The  Mason-bees 

very  instant;  the  mother  has  but  to  continue 
in  order  to  create  a  method  of  installation 
favourable  in  the  highest  degree  to  her  and 
hers.  Come,  poor  Bee !  Throw  aside  your 
exhausting  labours,  follow  the  evolutionists' 
advice  and,  as  you  have  the  means  at  your 
disposal,  become  a  parasite ! 

But  no,  having  effected  her  little  revenge, 
the  mason  returns  to  her  masonry,  the  gleaner 
to  her  gleaning,  with  unquenchable  zeal.  She 
forgets  the  crime  committed  in  a  moment  of 
anger  and  takes  good  care  not  to  hand  down 
any  tendency  toward  idleness  to  her  offspring. 
She  knows  too  well  that  acitivity  is  life,  that 
work  is  the  world's  great  joy.  What  myriads 
of  cells  has  she  not  broken  open  since  she  has 
been  building;  what  magnificent  opportuni- 
ties, all  so  clear  and  conclusive,  has  she  not 
had  to  emancipate  herself  from  drudgery! 
Nothing  could  convince  her:  born  to  work, 
she  persists  in  an  industrious  life.  She  might 
at  least  have  produced  an  offshoot,  a  race  of 
housebreakers,  who  would  invade  cells  by  de- 
molishing doors.  The  Stelis  does  something 
of  the  kind;  but  who  would  think  of  proclaim- 
ing a  relationship  between  the  Chalicodoma 
and  her?  The  two  have  nothing  in  common. 
238 


The  Theory  of  Parasitism 

I  call  for  a  scion  of  the  Mason-bee  of  the 
Sheds  who  shall  live  by  the  art  of  breaking 
through  ceilings.  Until  they  show  me  one, 
the  theorists  will  only  make  me  smile  when 
they  talk  to  me  of  erstwhile  workers  relin- 
quishing their  trade  to  become  parasitic  slug- 
gards. 

I  also  call,  with  no  less  insistence,  for  a 
descendant  of  the  Three-horned  Osmia,  a  de- 
scendant given  to  demolishing  party-walls.  I 
will  describe  presently  how  I  managed  to 
make  a  whole  swarm  of  these  Osmiae  build 
their  nests  on  the  table  in  my  study,  in  glass 
tubes  that  enabled  me  to  see  the  inmost  se- 
crets of  the  work  of  the  Bee.  For  three  or 
four  weeks,  each  Osmia  is  scrupulously  faith- 
ful to  her  tube,  which  is  laboriously  filled 
with  a  set  of  chambers  divided  by  earthen 
partitions.  Marks  of  different  colours  painted 
on  the  thorax  of  the  workers  enable  me  to 
recognize  individuals  in  the  crowd.  Each 
crystal  gallery  is  the  exclusive  property  of  one 
Osmia;  no  other  enters  it,  builds  in  it  or 
hoards  in  it.  If,  through  heedlessness, 
through  momentary  forgetfulness  of  her  own 
house  in  the  tumult  of  the  city,  some  neigh- 
bour so  much  as  comes  and  looks  in  at  the 
239 


The  Mason-bees 

door,  the  owner  soon  puts  her  to  flight.  No 
such  indiscretion  is  tolerated.  Every  Bee  has 
her  home  and  every  home  its  Bee. 

All  goes  well  until  just  before  the  end  of 
the  work.  The  tubes  are  then  closed  at  the 
orifice  with  a  thick  plug  of  earth ;  nearly  the 
whole  swarm  has  disappeared;  there  remain 
on  the  spot  a  score  of  tatterdemalions  in 
threadbare  fleeces,  worn  out  by  a  month's 
hard  toil.  These  laggards  have  not  finished 
their  laying.  There  is  no  lack  of  unoccupied 
tubes,  for  I  take  care  to  remove  some  of  those 
which  are  full  and  to  replace  them  by  others 
that  have  not  yet  been  used.  Very  few  of  the 
Bees  decide  to  take  possession  of  those  new 
homes,  which  differ  in  no  particular  from  the 
earlier  ones;  and  even  then  they  build  only  a 
small  number  of  cells,  which  are  often  mere 
attempts  at  partitions. 

They  want  something  different:  a  nest  be- 
longing to  some  one  else.  They  bore  through 
the  plug  of  the  inhabited  tubes,  a  work  of  no 
great  difficulty,  for  we  have  here  not  the  hard 
cement  of  the  Chalicodoma,  but  a  simple  lid 
of  dried  mud.  When  the  entrance  is  cleared, 
a  cell  appears,  with  its  store  of  provisions  and 
its  egg.  The  Osmia  snatches  that  fragile 
240 


The  Theory  of  Parasitism 

thing,  the  egg,  with  her  brutal  mandibles; 
she  rips  it  open  and  goes  and  flings  it  away. 
She  does  worse:  she  eats  it  on  the  spot.  I 
had  to  witness  this  horror  many  times  over 
before  I  could  accept  it  as  a  fact.  Note  that 
the  egg  devoured  may  very  well  contain  the 
criminal's  own  offspring.  Imperiously  swayed 
by  the  needs  of  her  present  family,  the  Osmia 
puts  her  past  family  entirely  out  of  her  mind. 

Having  perpetrated  this  child-murder,  the 
depraved  creature  does  a  little  provisioning. 
They  all  experience  the  same  necessity  to  go 
backwards  in  the  sequence  of  actions  in  order 
to  pick  up  the  thread  of  their  interrupted  oc- 
cupations. Her  next  work  is  to  lay  her  egg 
and  then  she  conscientiously  restores  the  de- 
molished lid. 

The  havoc  can  be  more  sweeping  still.  One 
of  these  laggards  is  not  satisfied  with  a  single 
cell ;  she  needs  two,  three,  four.  To  reach  the 
most  remote,  the  Osmia  wrecks  all  those 
which  comes  before  it.  The  partitions  are 
broken  down,  the  eggs  are  eaten  or  thrown 
away,  the  provisions  are  swept  outside,  are 
often  even  carried  to  a  distance  in  great 
lumps.  Covered  with  dust  from  the  loose 
plaster  of  the  demolition,  floured  all  over 
241 


The  Mason-bees 

with  the  rifled  pollen,  sticky  with  the  contents 
of  the  mangled  eggs,  the  Osmia,  while  at  her 
brigand's  work,  is  altered  beyond  recognition. 
Once  the  place  is  cleared,  everything  resumes 
its  normal  course.  Provisions  are  laboriously 
brought  to  take  the  place  of  those  which  have 
been  thrown  away ;  eggs  are  laid,  one  on  each 
heap  of  food;  the  partitions  are  built  up 
again;  and  the  massive  plug  sealing  the  whole 
structure  is  made  as  good  as  new. 

Crimes  of  this  kind  recur  so  often  that  I 
am  obliged  to  interfere  and  place  in  safety 
the  nests  which  I  wish  to  keep  intact.  And 
nothing  as  yet  explains  this  brigandage,  burst- 
ing forth  at  the  end  of  the  work  like  a  moral 
epidemic,  like  a  frenzied  delirium.  I  should 
say  nothing  if  the  site  were  lacking;  but  the 
tubes  are  there,  close  by,  empty  and  quite  fit 
to  receive  the  eggs.  The  Osmia  refuses  them, 
she  prefers  to  plunder.  Is  it  from  weariness, 
from  a  distaste  for  work  after  a  period  of 
fierce  activity?  Not  at  all;  for,  when  a  row 
of  cells  has  been  stripped  of  its  contents,  after 
the  ravage  and  waste,  she  has  to  come  back 
to  ordinary  work,  with  all  its  burdens.  The 
labour  is  not  reduced;  it  is  increased.  It 
would  pay  the  Bee  infinitely  better,  if  she 
242 


The  Theory  of  Parasitism 

wants  to  continue  her  laying,  to  make  her 
home  in  an  unoccupied  tube.  The  Osmia 
thinks  differently.  Her  reasons  for  acting  as 
she  does  escape  me.  Can  there  be  ill-condi- 
tioned characters  among  her,  characters  that 
delight  in  a  neighbour's  ruin?  There  are 
among  men. 

In  the  privacy  of  her  native  haunts,  the 
Osmia,  I  have  no  doubt,  behaves  as  in  my 
crystal  galleries.  Towards  the  end  of  the 
building-operations,  she  violates  others'  dwell- 
ings. By  keeping  to  the  first  cell,  which  it  is 
not  necessary  to  empty  in  order  to  reach  the 
next,  she  can  utilize  the  provisions  on  the  spot 
and  shorten  to  that  extent  the  longest  part  of 
her  work.  As  usurpations  of  this  kind  have 
had  ample  time  to  become  inveterate,  to  be- 
come inbred  in  the  race,  I  ask  for  a  descend- 
ant of  the  Osmia  who  eats  her  grandmother's 
egg  in  order  to  establish  her  own. 

This  descendant  I  shall  not  be  shown;  but 
I  may  be  told  that  she  is  in  process  of  forma- 
tion. The  outrages  which  I  have  described 
are  preparing  a  future  parasite.  The  trans- 
formists  dogmatize  about  the  past  and  dogma- 
tise about  the  future,  but  as  seldom  as  pos- 
sible talk  to  us  about  the  present.  Trans- 
243 


The  Mason-bees 

formations  have  taken  place,  transformations 
will  take  place;  the  pity  of  it  is  that  they  are 
not  actually  taking  place.  Of  the  three 
tenses,  one  is  lacking,  the  very  one  which  di- 
rectly interests  us  and  which  alone  is  clear 
of  the  incubus  of  theory.  This  silence  about 
the  present  does  not  please  me  overmuch, 
scarcely  more  than  the  famous  picture  of  The 
Crossing  of  the  Red  Sea  painted  for  a  village 
chapel.  The  artist  had  put  upon  the  canvas 
a  broad  ribbon  of  brightest  scarlet;  and  that 
was  all. 

"Yes,  that's  the  Red  Sea,"  said  the  priest, 
examining  the  masterpiece  before  paying  for 
it.  "That's  the  Red  Sea,  right  enough;  but 
where  are  the  Israelites?" 

"They  have  passed,"  replied  the  painter. 

"And  the  Egyptians?" 

"They  are  on  the  way." 

Transformations  have  passed,  transforma- 
tions are  on  the  way.  For  mercy's  sake,  can- 
not they  show  us  transformations  in  the  act? 
Must  the  facts  of  the  past  and  the  facts  of  the 
future  necessarily  exclude  the  facts  of  the 
present?  I  fail  to  understand. 

I  call  for  a  descendant  of  the  Chalicodoma 
and  a  descendant  of  the  Osmia  who  have 
244 


The  Theory  of  Parasitism 

robbed  their  neighbours  with  gusto,  when  oc- 
casion offered,  since  the  origin  of  their  respec- 
tive races,  and  who  are  working  industriously 
to  create  a  parasite  happy  in  doing  nothing. 
Have  they  succeeded?  No.  Will  they  suc- 
ceed? Yes,  people  maintain.  For  the  moment, 
nothing.  The  Osmiae  and  Chalicodomae  of 
to-day  are  what  they  were  when  the  first 
trowel  of  cement  or  mud  was  mixed.  Then 
how  many  ages  does  it  take  to  form  a  para- 
site? Too  many,  I  fear,  for  us  not  to  be 
discouraged. 

If  the  sayings  of  the  theorists  are  well- 
founded,  going  on  strike  and  living  by  shifts 
was  not  always  enough  to  assure  parasitism. 
In  certain  cases,  the  animal  must  have  had  to 
change  its  diet,  to  pass  from  live  prey  to  vege- 
tarian fare,  which  would  entirely  subvert  its 
most  essential  characteristics.  What  should 
we  say  to  the  Wolf  giving  up  mutton  and 
browsing  on  grass,  in  obedience  to  the  dic- 
tates of  idleness?  The  boldest  would  shrink 
from  such  an  absurd  assumption.  And  yet 
transformism  leads  us  straight  to  it. 

Here  is  an  example:  in  July,  I  split  some 
bramble-stems  in  which  Osmia  tridentata  has 
built  her  nests.  In  the  long  series  of  cells,  the 
245 


The  Mason-bees 

lower  already  hold  the  Osmia's  cocoons,  while 
the  upper  contain  the  larva  which  has  nearly 
finished  consuming  its  provisions  and  the  top- 
most show  the  victuals  untouched,  with  the 
Osmia's  egg,  another  egg  is  fixed:  an  egg 
egg,  rounded  at  both  extremities,  of  a  trans- 
parent white  and  measuring  four  to  five  milli- 
metres1 in  length.  It  lies  slantwise,  one  end 
of  it  resting  on  the  food  and  the  other  stick- 
ing up  at  some  distance  above  the  honey. 
Now,  by  multiplying  my  visits  to  the  fresh 
cells,  I  have  on  several  occasions  made  a  very 
valuable  discovery.  On  the  free  end  of  the 
Osmia's  egg,  another  egg  is  fixed;  an  egg 
quite  different  in  shape,  white  and  transparent 
like  the  first,  but  much  smaller  and  narrower, 
blunt  at  one  end  and  tapering  into  a  rather 
sharp  point  at  the  other.  It  is  two  millimetres 
long  by  half  a  millimetre  wide.2  It  is  unde- 
niably the  egg  of  a  parasite,  a  parasite  which 
compels  my  attention  by  its  curious  method 
of  installing  its  family. 

It  opens  before  the  Osmia's  egg.  The  tiny 
grub,  as  soon  as  it  is  born,  begins  to  drain 
the  rival  egg,  of  which  it  occupies  the  top 


*.i56  to  .195  inch. — Translator's  Note. 
2.078  and  .019  inch. — Translator's  Note. 
246 


The  Theory  of  Parasitism 

part,  high  up  above  the  honey.  The  exter- 
mination soon  becomes  perceptible.  You  can 
see  the  Osmia's  egg  turning  muddy,  losing 
its  brilliancy,  becoming  limp  and  wrinkled. 
In  twenty-four  hours,  it  is  nothing  but  an 
empty  sheath,  a  crumpled  bit  of  skin.  All 
competition  is  now  removed;  the  parasite  is 
the  master  of  the  house.  The  young  grub, 
when  demolishing  the  egg,  was  active  enough: 
it  explored  the  dangerous  thing  which  had  to 
be  got  rid  of  quickly,  it  raised  its  head  to 
select  and  multiply  the  attacking-points. 
Now,  lying  at  full  length  on  the  surface  of 
the  honey,  it  no  longer  shifts  its  position;  but 
the  undulations  of  the  digestive  canal  betray 
its  greedy  absorption  of  the  Osmia's  store  of 
food.  The  provisions  are  finished  in  a  fort- 
night and  the  cocoon  is  woven.  It  is  a  fairly 
firm  ovoid,  of  a  very  dark-brown  colour,  two 
characteristics  which  at  once  distinguish  it 
from  the  Osmia's  pale,  cylindrical  cocoon. 
The  hatching  takes  place  in  April  or  May. 
The  puzzle  is  solved  at  last:  the  Osmia's 
parasite  is  a  Wasp  called  Sapyga  punctata, 
V.  L. 

Now  where  are  we  to  class  this  Wasp,  a 
true  parasite  in  the  strict  sense  of  the  word, 

247 


The  Mason-bees 

that  is  to  say,  a  consumer  of  others'  provi- 
sions? Her  general  appearance  and  her 
structure  make  it  clear  to  any  eye  more  or  less 
familiar  with  entomological  shapes  that  she 
belongs  to  a  species  akin  to  that  of  the  Scoliae. 
Moreover,  the  masters  of  classification,  so 
scrupulous  in  their  comparison  of  character- 
istics, agree  in  placing  the  Sapygae  immedi- 
ately after  the  Scoliae  and  a  little  before  the 
Mutillae.  The  Scoliae  feed  their  grubs  on  prey; 
so  do  the  Mutillae.  The  Osmia's  parasite, 
therefore,  if  it  really  derives  from  a  trans- 
formed ancestor,  is  descended  from  a  flesh- 
eater,  though  it  is  now  an  eater  of  honey. 
The  Wolf  does  more  than  become  a  Sheep: 
he  turns  himself  into  a  sweet-tooth. 

"You  will  never  get  an  apple-tree  out  of 
an  acorn,"  Franklin  tells  us,  with  that  homely 
common-sense  of  his. 

In  this  case,  the  passion  for  jam  must  have 
sprung  from  a  love  of  venison.  Any  theory 
might  well  be  deficient  in  balance  when  it 
leads  to  such  vagaries  as  this. 

I  should  have  to  write  a  volume  if  I  would 

go  on  setting  forth  my  doubts.     I  have  said 

enough  for  the  moment.    Man,  the  insatiable 

enquirer,  hands  down  from  age  to  age  his 

248 


The  Theory  of  Parasitism 

questions  about  the  whys  and  wherefores  of 
origins.  Answer  follows  answer,  is  pro- 
claimed true  to-day  and  recognized  as  false 
to-morrow;  and  the  goddess  Isis  continues 
veiled. 


249 


CHAPTER  X 

THE  TRIBULATIONS  OF  THE  MASON-BEE 

TO  ILLUSTRATE  the  methods  of  those 
who  batten  on  others'  goods,  the  plun- 
derers who  know  no  rest  till  they  have 
wrought  the  destruction  of  the  worker,  it 
would  be  difficult  to  find  a  better  instance 
than  the  tribulations  suffered  by  the  Chalico- 
doma  of  the  Walls.  The  Mason  who  builds 
on  the  pebbles  may  fairly  boast  of  being  an 
industrious  workwoman.  Throughout  the 
month  of  May,  we  see  her  black  squads,  in 
the  full  heat  of  the  sun,  digging  with  busy 
teeth  in  the  mortar-quarry  of  the  road  hard 
by.  So  great  is  her  zeal  that  she  hardly 
moves  out  of  the  way  of  the  passer-by;  more 
than  one  allows  herself  to  be  crushed  under- 
foot, all  absorbed  as  she  is  in  collecting  her 
cement. 

The  hardest  and  driest  spots,  which  still 

retain    the    compactness    imparted    by    the 

steam-roller,  are  the  favourite  veins;  and  the 

work  of  making  the  pellet  is  slow  and  pain- 

250 


The  Tribulations  of  the  Mason-bee 

ful.  It  is  scraped  up  atom  by  atom ;  and,  by 
means  of  saliva,  it  is  turned  into  mortar  then 
and  there.  When  it  is  all  well  kneaded  and 
there  is  enough  to  make  a  load,  the  Mason 
sets  off  with  an  impetuous  flight,  in  a  straight 
line,  and  makes  for  her  pebble,  a  few  hun- 
dred paces  away.  The  trowel  of  fresh  mor- 
tar is  soon  spent,  either  in  adding  another 
story  to  the  turret-shaped  edifice,  or  in  ce- 
menting into  the  wall  lumps  of  gravel  that 
give  it  greater  solidity.  The  journeys  in 
search  of  cement  are  removed  until  the  struct- 
ure attains  the  regulation  height.  Without 
a  moment's  rest,  the  Bee  returns  a  hundred 
times  to  the  stone-yard,  always  to  the  one 
spot  recognized  as  excellent. 

The  victuals  are  now  collected :  honey  and 
flower-dust.  If  there  is  a  pink  carpet  of  sain- 
foin anywhere  in  the  neighbourhood,  'tis  there 
that  the  Mason  goes  plundering  by  prefer- 
ence, though  it  cost  her  a  four  hundred  yards' 
journey  every  time.  Her  crop  swells  with 
honeyed  exudations,  her  belly  is  floured  with 
pollen.  Back  to  the  cell,  which  slowly  fills; 
and  back  straightway  to  the  harvest-field. 
And  all  day  long,  with  not  a  sign  of  weari- 
ness, the  same  activity  is  maintained  as  long 
251 


The  Mason-bees 

as  the  sun  is  high  enough.  When  it  is  late, 
if  the  house  is  not  yet  closed,  the  Bee  retires 
to  her  cell  to  spend  the  night  there,  head 
downward,  tip  of  the  abdomen  outside,  a 
habit  foreign  to  the  Chalicodoma  of  the 
Sheds.  Then  and  then  alone  the  Mason 
rests ;  but  it  is  a  rest  that  is  in  a  sense  equiva- 
lent to  work,  for,  thus  placed,  she  blocks  the 
entrance  to  the  honey-store  and  defends  her 
treasure  against  twilight-  or  night-marauders. 

Being  anxious  to  form  some  estimate  of 
the  total  distance  covered  by  the  Bee  in  the 
construction  and  provisioning  of  a  single  cell, 
I  counted  the  number  of  steps  from  a  nest  to 
the  road  where  the  mortar  was  mixed  and 
from  the  same  nest  to  the  sainfoin-field  where 
the  harvest  was  gathered.  I  took  such  note 
as  my  patience  permitted  of  the  journeys 
made  in  both  directions;  and,  completing 
these  data  with  a  comparison  between  the 
work  done  and  that  which  remained  to  do,  I 
arrived  at  nine  and  a  half  miles  as  the  result 
of  the  total  travelling.  Of  course,  I  give  this 
figure  only  as  a  rough  calculation;  greater 
precision  would  have  demanded  more  perse- 
verance than  I  can  boast. 

Such  as  it  is,  the  result,  which  is  probably 
252 


The  Tribulations  of  the  Mason-bee 

under  the  actual  figure  in  many  cases,  is  of  a 
kind  that  gives  us  a  vivid  idea  of  the  Mason- 
bee's  activity.  The  complete  nest  will  com- 
prise about  fifteen  cells.  Moreover,  the  heap 
of  cells  will  be  coated  at  the  end  with  a  layer 
of  cement  a  good  finger's-breadth  thick.  This 
massive  fortification,  which  is  less  finished 
than  the  rest  of  the  work  but  more  expensive 
in  materials,  represents  perhaps  in  itself  one- 
half  of  the  complete  task,  so  that,  to  establish 
her  dome,  Chalicodoma  muraria,  coming  and 
going  across  the  arid  table-land,  traverses  al- 
together a  distance  of  275  miles,  which  is 
nearly  half  of  the  greatest  dimension  of 
France,  from  north  to  south.  After  this, 
when,  worn  out  with  all  this  fatigue,  the  Bee 
retires  to  a  hiding-place  to  languish  in  soli- 
tude and  die,  she  is  surely  entitled  to  say: 
"I  have  laboured,  I  have  done  my  duty!" 
Yes,  certainly,  the  Mason  has  toiled 
with  a  vengeance.  To  ensure  the  future  of 
her  offspring,  she  has  spent  her  own 
life  without  reserve,  her  long  life  of 
five  or  six  weeks'  duration;  and  now  she 
breathes  her  last,  contented  because  every- 
thing is  in  order  in  the  beloved  house :  copious 
rations  of  the  first  quality;  a  shelter  against 
253 


The  Mason-bees 

the  winter  frosts;  ramparts  against  incur- 
sions of  the  enemy.  Everything  is  in  order, 
at  least  so  she  thinks;  but,  alas,  what  a  mis- 
take the  poor  mother  is  making!  Here  the 
hateful  fatality  stands  revealed,  aspera  fata, 
which  ruins  the  producer  to  provide  a  living 
for  the  drone ;  here  we  see  the  stupid  and  fe- 
rocious law  that  sacrifices  the  worker  for  the 
idler's  benefit.  What  have  we  done,  we  and 
the  insects,  to  be  ground  with  sovereign  in- 
difference under  the  mill-stone  of  such 
wretchedness?  Oh,  what  terrible,  what 
heart-rending  questions  the  Mason-bee's  mis- 
fortunes would  bring  to  my  lips,  if  I  gave 
free  scope  to  my  sombre  thoughts !  But  let 
us  avoid  these  useless  whys  and  keep  within 
the  province  of  the  mere  recorder. 

There  are  some  ten  of  them  plotting  the 
ruin  of  the  peaceable  and  industrious  Bee ;  and 
I  do  not  know  them  all.  Each  has  her  own 
tricks,  her  own  art  of  injury,  her  own  ex- 
terminating tactics,  so  that  no  part  of  the 
Mason's  work  may  escape  destruction.  Some 
seize  upon  the  victuals,  others  feed  on  the 
larvae,  others  again  convert  the  dwelling  to 
their  own  use.  Everything  has  to  submit: 
cell,  provisions,  scarce-weaned  nurselings. 
254 


The  Tribulations  of  the  Mason-bee 

The  stealers  of  food  are  the  Stelis-wasp 
(Stelis  nasuta)  and  the  Dioxys-bee  (Dioxys 
cincta) .  I  have  already  said  how,  in  the 
Mason's  absence,  the  Stelis  perforates  the 
dome  of  cell  after  cell,  lays  her  eggs  there  and 
afterward  repairs  the  breach  with  a  mortar 
made  of  red  earth,  which  at  once  betrays  the 
parasite's  presence  to  a  watchful  eye.  The 
Stelis,  who  is  much  smaller  than  the  Chalico- 
doma,  finds  enough  food  in  a  single  cell  for 
the  rearing  of  several  of  her  grubs.  The 
mother  lays  a  number  of  eggs,  which  I  have 
seen  vary  between  the  extremes  of  two  and 
twelve,  on  the  surface,  next  to  the  Mason's 
egg,  which  itself  undergoes  no  outrage  what- 
ever. 

Things  do  not  go  so  badly  at  first.  The 
feasters  swim — it  is  the  only  word — in  the 
midst  of  plenty;  they  eat  and  digest  like 
brothers.  Presently  times  become  hard  for 
the  hostess'  son:  the  food  decreases,  dearth 
sets  in;  and  at  last  not  an  atom  remains,  al- 
though the  Mason's  larva  has  attained  at 
most  a  quarter  of  its  growth.  The  others, 
more  expeditious  feeders,  have  exhausted  the 
victuals  long  before  the  victim  has  finished 
his  normal  repast.  The  swindled  grub 

255 


The  Mason-bees 

shrivels  up  and  dies,  while  the  gorged  larvae 
of  the  Stelis  begin  to  spin  their  strong  little 
brown  cocoons,  pressed  close  together  and 
lumped  into  one  mass,  so  as  to  make  the  best 
use  of  the  scanty  space  in  the  crowded  dwell- 
ing. Should  you  inspect  the  cell  later,  you 
will  find,  between  the  heaped  cocoons  on  the 
wall,  a  little  dried-up  corpse.  It  is  the  larva 
that  was  such  an  object  of  care  to  the  mother 
Mason.  The  efforts  of  the  most  laborious  of 
lives  have  ended  in  this  lamentable  relic.  It 
has  happened  to  me  just  as  often,  when  ex- 
amining the  secrets  of  the  cell  which  is  at 
once  cradle  and  tomb,  not  to  come  upon  the 
deceased  grub  at  all.  I  picture  the  Stelis,  be- 
fore laying  her  own  eggs,  destroying  the 
Chalicodoma's  egg  and  eating  it,  as  the 
Osmiae  do  among  themselves ;  or  I  picture  the 
dying  thing,  an  irksome  mass  for  the  numer- 
ous spinners  at  work  in  a  narrow  habitation, 
being  cut  to  pieces  to  make  room  for  the 
medley  of  cocoons.  But  to  so  many  deeds  of 
darkness  I  would  not  like  to  add  another  by 
an  oversight;  and  I  prefer  to  admit  that  I 
failed  to  perceive  the  grub  that  died  of 
hunger. 

Let  us  now  show  up  the  Dioxys.    At  the 
256 


The  Tribulations  of  the  Mason-bee 

time  when  the  work  of  construction  is  in 
progress,  she  is  an  impudent  visitor  of  the 
nests,  exploiting  with  the  same  effrontery  the 
enormous  cities  of  the  Mason-bee  of  the 
Sheds  and  the  solitary  cupolas  of  the  Mason- 
bee  of  the  Pebbles.  An  innumerable  popula- 
tion, coming  and  going,  humming  and  buz- 
zing, strikes  her  with  no  awe.  On  the  tiles 
hanging  from  the  walls  of  my  porch,  I  see 
her,  with  her  red  scarf  round  her  body,  stalk- 
ing with  sublime  assurance  over  the  ridged 
expanse  of  nests.  Her  black  schemes  leave 
the  swarm  profoundly  indifferent;  not  one  of 
the  workers  dreams  of  chasing  her  off,  unless 
she  should  come  bothering  too  closely.  Even 
then,  all  that  happens  is  a  few  signs  of  impa- 
tience on  the  part  of  the  hustled  Bee.  There 
is  no  serious  excitement,  no  eager  pursuits 
such  as  the  presence  of  a  mortal  enemy  might 
lead  us  to  suspect.  They  are  there  in  their 
thousands,  each  armed  with  her  dagger;  any 
one  of  them  is  capable  of  slaying  the  traitress ; 
and  not  one  attacks  her.  The  danger  is  not 
suspected. 

Meanwhile,    she   inspects   the   work-yard, 
moves  freely  among  the  ranks  of  the  Masons 
and  bides  her  time.     If  the  owner  be  absent, 
257 


The  Mason-bees 

I  see  her  diving  into  a  cell,  coming  out  again 
a  moment  later  with  her  mouth  smeared  with 
pollen.  She  has  been  to  try  the  provisions. 
A  dainty  connoisseur,  she  goes  from  one  store 
to  another,  taking  a  mouthful  of  honey.  Is 
it  a  tithe  for  her  personal  maintenance,  or  a 
sample  tested  for  the  benefit  of  her  coming 
grub?  I  should  not  like  to  say.  What  I 
do  know  is  that,  after  a  certain  number  of 
these  tastings,  I  catch  her  stopping  in  a  cell, 
with  her  abdomen  at  the  bottom  and  her 
head  at  the  orifice.  This  is  the  moment  of 
laying,  unless  I  am  very  much  indeed  mis- 
taken. 

When  the  parasite  is  gone,  I  inspect  the 
home.  I  see  nothing  abnormal  on  the  sur- 
face of  the  mass.  The  sharper  eye  of  the 
owner,  when  she  gets  back,  sees  nothing 
either,  for  she  continues  the  victualling,  with- 
out betraying  the  least  uneasiness.  A  strange 
egg,  laid  on  the  provisions,  would  not  escape 
her.  I  know  how  clean  she  keeps  her  ware- 
house ;  I  know  how  scrupulously  she  casts  out 
anything  introduced  by  my  agency:  an  egg 
that  is  not  hers,  a  bit  of  straw,  a  grain  of 
dust.  So,  according  to  my  evidence  and  that 
of  the  Chalicodoma,  which  is  more  conclu- 
258 


The  Tribulations  of  the  Mason-bee 

sive,  the  Dioxys'  egg,  if  it  is  really  laid  then, 
is  not  placed  on  the  surface. 

I  suspect,  without  having  yet  verified  my 
suspicion — and  I  reproach  myself  for  the 
neglect — I  suspect  that  the  egg  is  buried  in 
the  heap  of  pollen-dust.  When  I  see  the 
Dioxys  come  out  of  a  cell  with  her  mouth  all 
over  yellow  flour,  perhaps  she  has  been  sur- 
veying the  ground  and  preparing  a  hiding- 
place  for  her  egg.  What  I  take  for  a  mere 
tasting  might  well  be  a  more  serious  act. 
Thus  concealed,  the  egg  escapes  the  eagle  eye 
of  the  Bee,  whereas,  if  left  uncovered,  it 
would  inevitably  perish,  would  be  flung  on 
the  rubbish-heap  at  once  by  the  owner  of  the 
nest.  When  the  Spotted  Sapyga-wasp  lays 
her  egg  on  that  of  the  Bramble-dwelling 
Osmia,  she  does  the  deed  under  cover  of 
darkness,  in  the  gloom  of  a  deep  well  to 
which  not  the  least  ray  of  light  can  pene- 
trate; and  the  mother,  returning  with  her 
pellet  of  green  putty  to  build  the  closing  par- 
tition, does  not  see  the  usurping  germ  and  is 
ignorant  of  the  danger.  But  here  every- 
thing happens  in  broad  daylight;  and  this 
demands  more  cunning  in  the  method  of  in- 
stallation. 

259 


The  Mason-bees 

Besides,  it  is  the  one  favourable  moment 
for  the  Dioxys.  If  she  waits  for  the  Mason- 
bee  to  lay,  it  is  too  late,  for  the  parasite  is 
not  able  to  break  down  doors,  as  the  Stelis 
does.  As  soon  as  her  egg  is  laid,  the  Mason- 
bee  of  the  Sheds  comes  out  of  her  cell  and  at 
once  turns  round  and  proceeds  to  close  it  up 
with  the  pellet  of  mortar  which  she  holds 
ready  in  her  mandibles.  The  material  is  em- 
ployed with  such  method  that  the  actual  seal- 
ing is  done  in  a  moment;  the  other  pellets,  the 
object  of  repeated  journeys,  will  serve  merely 
to  increase  the  thickness  of  the  lid.  The 
chamber  is  inaccessible  to  the  Dioxys  from 
the  first  touch  of  the  trowel.  Hence  it  is  ab- 
solutely necessary  for  her  to  see  to  her  egg 
before  the  Mason-bee  of  the  Sheds  has  dis- 
posed of  hers  and  no  less  necessary  to  conceal 
it  from  the  Mason's  watchful  eye. 

The  difficulties  are  not  so  great  in  the  nests 
of  the  Mason-bee  of  the  Pebbles.  After  this 
Bee  has  laid  her  egg,  she  leaves  it  for  a  time 
to  go  in  search  of  the  cement  needed  for  clos- 
ing the  cell ;  or,  if  she  already  holds  a  pellet 
in  her  mandibles,  this  is  not  enough  to  seal 
it  properly,  as  the  orifice  is  larger.  More 
pellets  are  needed  to  wall  up  the  entrance  en- 
260 


The  Tribulations  of  the  Mason-bee 

tirely.  The  Dioxys  would  have  time  to  strike 
her  blow  during  the  mother's  absences;  but 
everything  seems  to  suggest  that  she  behaves 
on  the  pebbles  as  she  does  on  the  tiles.  She 
steals  a  march  by  hiding  the  egg  in  the  mass 
of  pollen  and  honey. 

What  becomes  of  the  Mason's  egg  con- 
fined in  the  same  cell  with  the  egg  of  the 
Dioxys?  In  vain  have  I  opened  nests  at 
every  season ;  I  have  never  found  a  vestige  of 
the  egg  nor  of  the  grub  of  either  Chalico- 
doma.  The  Dioxys,  whether  as  a  larva  on 
the  honey,  or  enclosed  in  its  cocoon,  or  as  the 
perfect  insect,  was  always  alone.  The  rival 
had  disappeared  without  a  trace.  A  sus- 
picion thereupon  suggests  itself;  and  the  facts 
are  so  compelling  that  the  suspicion  is  almost 
equal  to  a  certainty.  The  parasitic  grub, 
which  hatches  earlier  than  the  other,  emerges 
from  its  hiding-place,  from  the  midst  of  the 
honey,  comes  to  the  surface  and,  with  its  first 
bite,  destroys  the  egg  of  the  Mason-bee,  as 
the  Sapyga  does  the  egg  of  the  Osmia.  It  is 
an  odious,  but  a  supremely  efficacious  method. 
Nor  must  we  cry  out  too  loudly  against  such 
foul  play  on  the  part  of  a  new-born  infant: 
we  shall  meet  with  even  more  heinous  tactics 
261 


The  Mason-bees 

later.  The  criminal  records  of  life  are  full 
of  these  horrors  which  we  dare  not  search  too 
deeply.  An  infinitesimal  creature,  a  barely- 
visible  grub,  with  the  swaddling-clothes  of 
its  egg  still  clinging  to  it,  is  led  by  instinct, 
as  its  first  inspiration,  to  exterminate  what- 
ever is  in  its  way. 

So  the  Mason's  egg  is  exterminated.  Was 
it  really  necessary  in  the  Dioxys'  interest? 
Not  in  the  least.  The  hoard  of  provisions  is 
too  large  for  its  requirements  in  a  cell  of  the 
Chalicodoma  of  the  Sheds;  how  much  more 
so  in  a  cell  of  the  Chalicodoma  of  the  Peb- 
bles 1  She  eats  not  a  half,  hardly  a  third  of 
it.  The  rest  remains  as  it  was,  untouched. 
We  see  here,  in  the  destruction  of  the 
Mason's  egg,  a  flagrant  waste  which  aggra- 
vates the  crime.  For  lack  of  food,  the  sur- 
vivors on  the  raft  of  the  Medusa  indulged 
in  a  little  cannibalism ;  hunger  excuses  many 
things ;  but  here  there  is  enough  and  to  spare. 
When  there  is  too  much  for  her,  what  earthly 
motive  impels  the  Dioxys  to  destroy  a  rival 
in  the  germ  stage?  Why  cannot  she  allow 
the  larva,  her  mess-mate,  to  take  advantage 
of  the  remains  and  afterwards  to  shift  for 
itself  as  best  it  can?  But  no:  the  Mason- 
262 


The  Tribulations  of  the  Mason-bee 

bee's  offspring  must  needs  be  stupidly  sacri- 
ficed on  the  top  of  provisions  which  will  only 
grow  mouldy  and  useless!  I  should  be  re- 
duced to  the  gloomy  lucubrations  of  a  Scho- 
penhauer if  I  once  let  myself  begin  on  para- 
sitism. 

Such  is  a  brief  sketch  of  the  two  para- 
sites of  the  Chalicodoma  of  the  Pebbles,  true 
parasites,  consumers  of  provisions  hoarded 
on  behalf  of  others.  Their  crimes  are  not 
the  bitterest  tribulations  of  the  Mason-bee. 
If  the  first  starves  the  Mason's  grub  to  death, 
if  the  second  makes  it  perish  in  the  egg,  there 
are  others  who  have  a  more  pitiable  ending  in 
store  for  the  worker's  family.  When  the 
Bee's  grub,  all  plump  and  fat  and  greasy,  has 
finished  its  provisions  and  spun  its  cocoon 
wherein  to  sleep  the  slumber  akin  to  death, 
the  necessary  period  of  preparation  for  its 
future  life,  these  other  enemies  hasten  to  the 
nests  whose  fortifications  are  powerless 
against  their  hideously  ingenious  methods. 
Soon  on  the  sleeper's  body  lies  a  nascent  grub 
which  feasts  in  all  security  on  the  luscious 
fare.  The  traitors  who  attack  the  larvae  in 
their  lethargy  are  three  in  number:  an  An- 
thrax, a  Leucospis  and  a  microscopic  dagger- 
263 


The  Mason-bees 

wearer.1  Their  story  deserves  to  be  told 
without  reticence;  and  I  shall  tell  it  later. 
For  the  moment,  I  merely  mention  the  names 
of  the  three  exterminators. 

The  provisions  are  stolen,  the  egg  is  de- 
stroyed. The  young  grub  dies  of  hunger,  the 
larva  is  devoured.  Is  that  all?  Not  yet. 
The  worker  must  be  exploited  thoroughly,  in 
her  work  as  well  as  in  her  family.  Here  are 
some  now  who  covet  her  dwelling.  When 
the  Mason  is  constructing  a  new  edifice  on 
a  pebble,  her  almost  constant  presence  is 
enough  to  keep  the  aspirants  to  free  lodgings 
at  a  distance ;  her  strength  and  vigilance  over- 
awe whoso  would  annex  her  masonry.  If,  in 
her  absence,  one  greatly  daring  thinks  of  visit- 
ing the  building,  the  owner  soon  appears  upon 
the  scene  and  ousts  her  with  the  most  dis- 
couraging animosity.  She  has  no  need  then 
to  fear  the  entrance  of  unwelcome  tenants 
while  the  house  is  new.  But  the  Bee  of  the 
Pebbles  also  uses  old  dwellings  for  her  lay- 
ing, as  long  as  they  are  not  too  much  dilapi- 
dated. In  the  early  stages  of  the  work,  neigh- 

^Monodontomerus  cupreus.  For  this  and  the  Anthrax, 
cf.  The  Life  of  the  Fly:  chaps,  ii.  and  iii.  The  Leucospis 
forms  the  subject  of  the  next  chapter  of  the  present  vol- 
ume.— Translator's  Note. 

264 


The  Tribulations  of  the  Mason-bee 

bours  compete  for  these  with  an  eagerness 
which  shows  the  value  attached  to  them. 
Face  to  face,  at  times  with  their  mandibles 
interlocked,  now  both  rising  into  the  air,  now 
coming  down  again,  then  touching  ground 
and  rolling  over  each  other,  next  flying  up 
again,  for  hours  on  end  they  will  wage  battle 
for  the  property  at  issue. 

A  ready-made  nest,  a  family  heirloom 
which  needs  but  a  little  restoring,  is  a  pre- 
cious thing  for  the  Mason,  ever  sparing  of 
her  time.  We  find  so  many  of  the  old  homes 
repaired  and  restocked  that  I  suspect  the  Bee 
of  laying  new  foundations  only  when  there 
are  no  second-hand  nests  to  be  had.  To  have 
the  chambers  of  a  dome  occupied  by  a 
stranger  therefore  means  a  serious  privation. 

Now  several  Bees,  however  industrious  in 
gathering  honey,  building  party-walls  and 
fashioning  receptacles  for  provisions,  are  less 
clever  at  preparing  the  resorts  in  which  the 
cells  are  to  be  stacked.  The  abandoned  cham- 
bers of  the  Chalicodoma,  now  larger  than 
they  were  originally,  through  the  addition  of 
the  hall  of  exit,  are  first-rate  acquisitions  for 
them.  The  great  thing  is  to  occupy  these 
chambers  first,  for  here  possession  is  nine 
265 


The  Mason-bees 

parts  of  the  law.  Once  established,  the 
Mason  is  not  disturbed  in  her  home,  while 
she,  in  her  turn,  does  not  disturb  the  stranger 
who  has  settled  down  before  her  in  an  old 
nest,  the  patrimony  of  her  family.  The  easy- 
going disinherited  one  leaves  the  Bohemian 
to  enjoy  the  ruined  manor  in  peace  and  goes 
to  another  pebble  to  establish  herself  at  fresh 
expense. 

In  the  first  rank  of  these  free  tenants,  I 
will  place  an  Osmia  (Osmia  cyanoxantha, 
PEREZ)  and  a  Megachile,  or  Leaf-cutting 
Bee  (Megachile  apicalis,  SPIN.),  both  of 
whom  work  in  May,  at  the  same  time  as  the 
Mason,  while  both  are  small  enough  to  lodge 
from  five  to  eight  cells  in  a  single  chamber  of 
the  Chalicodoma,  a  chamber  increased  by  the 
addition  of  an  outer  hall.  The  Osmia  sub- 
divides this  space  into  very  irregular  com- 
partments, by  means  of  slanting,  upright  or 
curved  partitions,  subject  to  the  dictates  of 
space.  There  is  no  art,  consequently,  in  the 
accumulation  of  little  cells;  the  architect's 
onry  task  is  to  use  the  breadth  at  her  dis- 
posal in  a  frugal  manner.  The  material  em- 
ployed for  the  partitions  is  a  green,  vegetable 
putty,  which  the  Osmia  must  obtain  by  chew- 
266 


The  Tribulations  of  the  Mason-bee 

ing  the  shredded  leaves  of  a  plant  whose  na- 
ture is  still  uncertain.  The  same  green  paste 
serves  for  the  thick  plug  that  closes  the  abode. 
But  in  this  case  the  insect  does  not  use  it  un- 
adulterated. To  give  greater  power  of  re- 
sistance to  the  work,  it  mixes  a  number  of  bits 
of  gravel  with  the  vegetable  cement.  These 
materials,  which  are  easily  picked  up,  are 
lavishly  employed,  as  though  the  mother 
feared  lest  she  should  not  fortify  sufficiently 
the  entrance  to  her  dwelling.  They  form  a 
sort  of  coarse  stucco  on  the  more  or  less 
smooth  cupola  of  the  Chalicodoma ;  and  this 
unevenness,  as  well  as  the  green  colouring  of 
its  mortar  of  masticated  leaves,  at  once  be- 
trays the  Osmia's  nest.  In  course  of  time, 
under  the  prolonged  action  of  the  air,  the 
vegetable  putty  turns  brown  and  assumes  a 
dead-leaf  tint,  especially  on  the  outside  of  the 
plug;  and  it  would  then  be  difficult  for  any 
one  who  had  not  seen  them  when  freshly 
made  to  recognize  their  nature. 

The  old  nests  on  the  pebbles  seem  to  suit 
other  Osmiae.  My  notes  mention  Osmla 
Morawitzi,  PEREZ,  and  Osmia  cyanea, 
KIRB.,  as  having  been  recognized  in  these 
dwellings,  although  they  are  not  very  assidu- 
267 


The  Mason-bees 

ous  visitors.  Lastly,  to  complete  the  enu- 
meration of  the  Bees  known  to  me  as  making 
their  homes  in  the  Mason's  cupolas,  I  must 
add  Megachile  apicalis,  who  piles  in  each  cell 
a  half-dozen  or  more  honey-pots  constructed 
with  disks  cut  from  the  leaves  of  the  wild 
rose,  and  an  Anthidium  whose  species  I  can- 
not state,  having  seen  nothing  of  her  but  her 
white  cotton  sacks. 

The  Mason-bee  of  the  Sheds,  on  the  other 
hand,  supplies  free  lodgings  to  two  species  of 
Osmiae,  Osmia  tricornis,  LATR.,  and  Osmia 
Latreillii,  SPIN.,  both  of  whom  are  quite  com- 
mon. The  Three-horned  Osmia  frequents 
by  preference  the  habitations  of  the  Bees  that 
build  their  nests  in  populous  colonies,  such 
as  the  Chalicodoma  of  the  Sheds  and  the 
Hairy-footed  Anthophora.  Latreille's  Osmia 
is  nearly  always  found  with  the  Three-horned 
Osmia  at  the  Chalicodoma's. 

The  real  builder  of  the  city  and  the  ex- 
ploiter of  the  labour  of  others  work  together, 
at  the  same  period,  form  a  common  swarm 
and  live  in  perfect  harmony,  each  Bee  of  the 
two  species  attending  to  her  business  in  peace. 
They  share  and  share  alike,  as  though  by  tacit 
agreement.  Is  the  Osmia  discreet  enough  not 
268 


The  Tribulations  of  the  Mason-bee 

to  put  upon  the  good-natured  Mason  and  to 
utilize  only  abandoned  passages,  waste  cells? 
Or  does  she  take  possession  of  the  home  of 
which  the  real  owners  could  themselves  have 
made  use?  I  lean  in  favour  of  usurpation, 
for  it  is  not  rare  to  see  the  Chalicodoma  of 
the  Sheds  clearing  out  old  cells  and  using 
them  as  does  her  sister  of  the  Pebbles.  Be 
this  as  it  may,  all  this  little  busy  world  lives 
without  strife,  some  building  anew,  others  di- 
viding up  the  old  dwelling. 

Those  Osmiae,  on  the  contrary,  who  are 
the  self-invited  guests  of  the  Mason-bee  of 
the  Pebbles  are  the  sole  occupants  of  the 
dome.  The  cause  of  this  isolation  lies  in  the 
unsociable  temper  of  the  proprietress.  The 
old  nest  does  not  suit  her  from  the  moment 
that  she  sees  it  occupied  by  another.  Instead 
of  going  shares,  she  prefers  to  seek  elsewhere 
a  dwelling  where  she  can  work  in  solitude. 
Her  gracious  surrender  of  a  most  excellent 
lodging  in  favour  of  a  stranger  who  would 
be  incapable  of  offering  the  least  resistance 
if  a  dispute  arose  proves  the  great  immunity 
which  the  Osmia  enjoys  in  the  home  of  the 
worker  whom  she  exploits.  The  common 
and  peaceful  swarming  of  the  Mason-bee  of 


The  Mason-bees 

the  Sheds  and  the  two  cell-borrowing  Osmiae 
proves  it  in  a  still  more  positive  fashion. 
There  is  never  a  fight  for  the  acquisition  of 
another's  goods  or  the  defence  of  one's  own 
property;  never  a  brawl  between  Osmise  and 
Masons.  Robber  and  robbed  live  on  the  most 
neighbourly  terms.  The  Osmia  considers 
herself  at  home;  and  the  other  does  nothing 
to  undeceive  her.  If  the  parasites,  so  deadly 
to  the  workers,  move  about  in  their  very 
ranks  with  impunity,  without  arousing  the 
faintest  excitement,  an  equally  complete  in- 
difference must  be  shown  by  the  dispossessed 
owners  to  the  presence  of  the  usurpers  in  their 
old  homes.  I  should  be  greatly  put  to  it  if 
I  were  asked  to  reconcile  this  calmness  on  the 
part  of  the  expropriated  one  with  the  ruthless 
competition  that  is  said  to  sway  the  world. 
Fashioned  so  as  to  instal  herself  in  the 
Mason's  property,  the  Osmia  meets  with  a 
peaceful  reception  from  her.  My  feeble  eyes 
can  see  no  further. 

I  have  named  the  provision-thieves,  the 
grub-murderers  and  the  house-grabbers  who 
levy  tribute  on  the  Mason-bee.  Does  that 
end  the  list?  Not  at  all.  The  old  nests  are 
cities  of  the  dead.  They  contain  Bees  who, 
270 


The  Tribulations  of  the  Mason-bee 

on  achieving  the  perfect  state,  were  unable  to 
open  the  exit-door  through  the  cement  and 
who  withered  in  their  cells ;  they  contain  dead 
larvae,  turned  into  black,  brittle  cylinders ;  un- 
touched provisions,  both  mouldy  and  fresh, 
on  which  the  egg  has  come  to  grief;  tattered 
cocoons;  shreds  of  skins;  relics  of  the  trans- 
formation. 

If  we  remove  the  nest  of  the  Chalicodoma 
of  the  Sheds  from  its  tile — a  nest  sometimes 
quite  eight  inches  thick — we  find  live  inhabi- 
tants only  in  a  thin  outer  layer.  All  the  re- 
mainder, the  catacombs  of  past  generations,  is 
but  a  horrible  heap  of  dead,  shrivelled, 
ruined,  decomposed  things.  Into  this  sub- 
stratum of  the  ancient  city  the  unreleased 
Bees,  the  untransformed  larvae  fall  as  dust; 
here  the  honey-stores  of  old  go  sour,  here  the 
uneaten  provisions  are  reduced  to  mould. 

Three  undertakers,  all  members  of  the 
Beetle  tribe,  a  Clerus,  a  Ptinus  and  an  An- 
threnus,  batten  on  these  remains.  The  larvae 
of  the  Anthrenus  and  the  Ptinus  gnaw  the 
ashes  of  the  corpses ;  the  larva  of  the  Clerus, 
with  the  black  head  and  the  rest  of  its  body 
a  pretty  pink,  appeared  to  me  to  be  breaking 
into  the  old  jam-pots  filled  with  rancid  honey. 


The  Mason-bees 

The  perfect  insect  itself,  garbed  in  vermilion 
with  blue  ornaments,  is  fairly  common  on  the 
surface  of  the  clay  slabs  during  the  working 
season,  strolling  leisurely  through  the  yard  to 
taste  here  and  there  the  drops  of  honey  ooz- 
ing from  some  cracked  pot.  Notwithstand- 
ing his  showy  livery,  so  unlike  the  workers' 
sombre  frieze,  the  Chalicodomas  leave  him  in 
peace,  as  though  they  recognized  in  him  the 
scavenger  whose  duty  it  is  to  keep  the  sewers 
wholesome. 

Ravaged  by  the  passing  years,  the  Mason's 
home  at  last  falls  into  ruin  and  becomes  a 
hovel.  Exposed  as  it  is  to  the  direct  action 
of  wind  and  weather,  the  dome  built  upon  a 
pebble  chips  and  cracks.  To  repair  it  would 
be  too  irksome,  nor  would  that  restore  the 
original  solidity  of  the  shaky  foundation. 
Better  protected  by  the  covering  of  a  roof, 
the  city  of  the  sheds  resists  longer,  without, 
however,  escaping  eventual  decay.  The 
storeys  which  each  generation  adds  to  those 
in  which  it  was  born  increase  the  thickness 
and  the  weight  of  the  edifice  in  alarming 
proportions.  The  moisture  of  the  tile  filters 
into  the  oldest  layers,  wrecks  the  foundations 
and  threatens  the  nest  with  a  speedy  fall.  It 
272 


The  Tribulations  of  the  Mason-bee 

is  time  to  abandon  for  good  the  house  with 
its  cracks  and  rents. 

Thereupon  the  crumbling  apartments,  on 
the  pebble  as  well  as  on  the  tile,  become  the 
home  of  a  camp  of  gypsies,  who  are  not  par- 
ticular where  they  find  a  shelter.  The  shape- 
less hovel,  reduced  to  a  fragment  of  a  wall, 
finds  occupants,  for  the  Mason's  work  must 
be  exploited  to  the  utmost  limits  of  possi- 
bility. In  the  blind  alleys,  all  that  remains  of 
the  former  cells,  Spiders  weave  a  white-satin 
screen,  behind  which  they  lie  in  wait  for  the 
passing  game.  In  nooks  which  they  repair 
in  summary  fashion  with  earthen  embank- 
ments or  with  clay  partitions,  Hunting-wasps, 
Pompili  and  Tripoxyla,  store  up  small  mem- 
bers of  the  Spider  tribe,  including  sometimes 
the  Weaving-spiders  who  live  inside  the  same 
ruins. 

I  have  said  nothing  yet  of  the  Chalicodoma 
of  the  Shrubs.  My  silence  is  not  due  to  negli- 
gence, but  to  the  circumstance  that  I  am  al- 
most destitute  of  facts  relating  to  her  para- 
sites. Of  the  many  nests  which  I  have 
opened  in  order  to  study  their  inhabitants, 
only  one  so  far  has  been  invaded  by  strangers. 
This  nest,  the  size  of  a  large  walnut,  was 
273 


The  Mason-bees 

fixed  on  a  pomegranate-branch.  It  comprised 
eight  cells,  of  which  seven  were  occupied  by 
the  Chalicodoma  and  the  eighth  by  a  little 
Chalcis,  the  plague  of  a  whole  host  of  the 
Bee-tribe.  Apart  from  this  instance,  which 
was  not  a  very  serious  case,  I  have  seen 
nothing.  In  those  aerial  nests,  swinging  at  the 
end  of  a  twig,  not  a  Dioxys,  a  Stelis,  an 
Anthrax,  a  Leucospis,  those  dread  ravagers 
of  the  other  two  Masons;  never  any  Osmise, 
Megachiles  or  Anthidia,  those  lodgers  in  the 
old  buildings. 

The  absence  of  the  latter  is  easily  ex- 
plained. The  Chalicodoma's  masonry  does 
not  last  long  on  its  frail  support.  The  win- 
ter winds,  when  the  shelter  of  the  foliage 
has  disappeared,  must  easily  break  the  twig, 
which  is  little  thicker  than  a  straw  and  liable 
to  give  way  by  reason  of  its  heavy  burden. 
Threatened  with  an  early  fall,  if  it  is  not  al- 
ready on  the  ground,  last  year's  dwelling  is 
not  restored  to  serve  the  needs  of  the  present 
generation.  The  same  nest  does  not  serve 
twice;  and  this  does  away  with  the  Osmiae 
and  with  their  rivals  in  the  art  of  utilizing 
old  cells. 

The  elucidation  of  this  point  does  not  re- 
274 


The  Tribulations  of  the  Mason-bee 

move  the  obscurity  of  the  next.  I  can  see 
nothing  to  account  for  the  absence  or  at  least 
the  extreme  rareness  of  usurpers  of  provisions 
and  consumers  of  grubs,  both  of  whom  are 
very  indifferent  to  the  new  or  old  conditions 
of  the  nest,  so  long  as  the  cells  are  well 
stocked.  Can  it  be  that  the  lofty  position  of 
the  edifice  and  the  shaky  support  of  the 
branch  arouse  distrust  in  the  Dioxys  and 
other  malefactors?  In  the  absence  of  a  bet- 
ter explanation,  I  am  needs  content  to  leave 
it  at  that. 

If  my  idea  is  not  an  empty  fancy,  we  must 
admit  that  the  Chalicodoma  of  the  Shrubs 
was  singularly  well-inspired  in  building  in 
mid-air.  You  have  seen  of  what  misfortunes 
the  other  two  are  victims.  If  I  take  a  census 
of  the  population  of  a  tile,  many  a  time  I  find 
the  Dioxys  and  the  Mason-bee  in  almost 
equal  proportions.  The  parasite  has  wiped 
out  half  the  colony.  To  complete  the  disas- 
ter, it  is  not  unusual  for  the  grub-eaters,  the 
Leucospis  and  her  rival,  the  pygmy  Chalcidid, 
to  have  decimated  the  other  half.  I  say  no- 
thing of  Anthrax  sinuata,  whom  I  sometimes 
see  coming  from  the  nests  of  the  Chalico- 
doma of  the  Sheds;  her  larva  preys  on  the 
275 


The  Mason-bees 

Three-horned  Osmia,  the  Mason-bee's  visi- 
tor. 

All  solitary  though  she  be  on  her  boulder, 
which  would  seem  the  proper  thing  to  keep 
away  exploiters,  the  scourge  of  dense  popu- 
lations, the  Chalicodoma  of  the  Pebbles  is  no 
less  sorely  tried.  My  notes  abound  in  cases 
such  as  the  following :  of  the  nine  cells  in  one 
dome,  three  are  occupied  by  the  Anthrax,  two 
by  the  Leucospis,  two  by  the  Stelis,  one  by  the 
Chalcidid  and  the  ninth  by  the  Mason.  It  is 
as  though  the  four  miscreants  had  joined 
forces  for  the  massacre:  the  whole  of  the 
Bee's  family  has  disappeared,  all  but  one 
young  mother  saved  from  the  disaster  by  her 
position  in  the  centre  of  the  citadel.  I  have 
sometimes  stuffed  my  pockets  with  nests  re- 
moved from  their  pebbles  without  finding  a 
single  one  that  has  not  been  violated  by  one 
or  other  of  the  malefactors  and  oftener  still 
by  several  of  them  at  a  time.  It  is  almost 
an  event  for  me  to  find  a  nest  intact.  After 
these  funereal  records,  I  am  haunted  by  a 
gloomy  thought:  the  weal  of  one  means  the 
woe  of  another. 


276 


CHAPTER  XI 

THE  LEUCOSPES1 

LET  us  visit  the  nests  of  Chalicodoma  mu~ 
rana  in  July,  detaching  them  from  their 
pebbles  with  a  sideward  blow,  as  I  explained 
when  telling  the  story  of  the  Anthrax.  The 
Mason-bee's  cocoons  with  two  inhabitants, 
one  devouring,  the  other  in  process  of  being 
devoured,  are  numerous  enough  to  allow  me 
to  gather  some  dozens  in  the  course  of  a  morn- 
ing, before  the  sun  becomes  unbearably  hot. 
We  will  give  a  smart  tap  to  the  flints  so  as  to 
loosen  the  clay  domes,  wrap  these  up  in  news- 
papers, fill  our  box  and  go  home  as  fast  as 
we  can,  for  the  air  will  soon  be  as  fiery  as  the 
devil's  kitchen. 

Inspection,  which  is  easier  in  the  shade  in- 
doors, soon  tells  us  that,  though  the  devoured 
is  always  the  wretched  Mason-bee,  the  de- 
vourer  belongs  to  two  different  species.  In 

JThis  chapter  should  be  read  in  conjunction  with  the 
essays  entitled  The  Anthrax  and  Larval  Dimorphism, 
forming  chaps,  ii.  and  iv.  of  The  Life  of  the  Fly. — Trans- 
lator's Note. 

277 


The  Mason-bees 

the  one  case,  the  cylindrical  form,  the  creamy- 
white  colouring  and  the  little  nipple  constitu- 
ting the  head  reveal  to  us  the  larva  of  the  An- 
thrax, which  does  not  concern  us  at  present; 
in  the  other,  the  general  structure  and  appear- 
ance betray  the  grub  of  some  Hymenopteron. 
The  Mason's  second  exterminator  is,  in  fact, 
a  Leucospis  (Leucospis  gigas,  FAB.),  a  mag- 
nificent insect,  striped  black  and  yellow,  with 
an  abdomen  rounded  at  the  end  and  hollowed 
out,  as  is  also  the  back,  into  a  groove  to  con- 
tain a  long  rapier,  as  slender  as  a  horsehair, 
which  the  creature  unsheathes  and  drives 
through  the  mortar  right  into  the  cell  where 
is  proposes  to  establish  its  egg.  Before  occu- 
pying ourselves  with  its  capacities  as  an  inocu- 
lator,  let  us  learn  how  its  larva  lives  in  the 
invaded  cell. 

It  is  a  hairless,  legless,  sightless  grub,  easily 
confused,  by  unexperienced  eyes,  with  that  of 
various  honey-gathering  Hymenoptera.  Its 
most  visible  characteristics  consist  of  a  colour- 
ing like  rancid  butter,  a  shiny  and  as  it  were 
oily  skin  and  a  segmentation  accentuated  by  a 
series  of  marked  swellings,  so  that,  when 
looked  at  from  the  side,  the  back  is  very 
plainly  indented.  When  at  rest,  the  larva  is 
278 


The  Leucospes 

like  a  bow  bending  round  at  one  point.  It  is 
made  up  of  thirteen  segments,  including  the 
head.  This  head,  which  is  very  small  com- 
pared with  the  rest  of  the  body,  displays  no 
mouth-part  under  the  lens ;  at  most  you  see  a 
faint  red  streak,  which  calls  for  the  miscro- 
scope.  You  then  distinguish  two  delicate  man- 
dibles, very  short  and  fashioned  into  a  sharp 
point.  A  small  round  mouth,  with  a  fine 
piercer  on  the  right  and  left,  is  all  that  the 
powerful  instrument  reveals.  As  for  my  best 
single  magnifying-glasses,  they  show  me  no- 
thing at  all.  On  the  other  hand,  we  can  quite 
easily,  without  arming  the  eye  with  a  lens, 
perceive  the  mouth-apparatus — and  particu- 
larly the  mandibles — of  either  a  honey-eater, 
such  as  an  Osmia,  Chalicodoma  or  Megachile, 
or  a  game-eater,  such  as  a  Scolia,  Ammophila 
or  Bembex.  All  these  possess  stout  pincers, 
capable  of  gripping,  grinding  and  tearing. 
Then  what  is  the  purpose  of  the  Leucospis' 
invisible  implements?  His  method  of  con- 
suming will  tell  us. 

Like  his  prototype,  the  Anthrax,  the  Leu- 
cospis  does  not  eat  the   Chalicodoma-grub, 
that  is  to  say,  he  does  not  break  it  up  into 
mouthfuls;  he  drains  it  without  opening  it  and 
279 


The  Mason-bees 

digging  into  its  vitals.  In  him  again  we  see 
exemplified  that  marvellous  art  which  consists 
in  feeding  on  the  victim  without  killing  it  until 
the  meal  is  over,  so  as  always  to  have  a  por- 
tion of  fresh  meat.  With  its  mouth  assidu- 
ously applied  to  the  unhappy  creature's  skin, 
the  lethal  grub  fills  itself  and  waxes  fat,  while 
the  fostering  larva  collapses  and  shrivels,  re- 
taining just  enough  life,  however,  to  resist  de- 
composition. All  that  remains  of  the  de- 
canted corpse  is  the  skin,  which,  when  soft- 
ened in  water  and  blown  out,  swells  into  a 
balloon  without  the  least  escape  of  gas,  thus 
proving  the  continuity  of  the  integument.  All 
the  same,  the  apparently  unpunctured  bladder 
has  lost  its  contents.  It  is  a  repetition  of  what 
the  Anthrax  has  shown  us,  with  this  difference, 
that  the  Leucospis  seems  not  so  well  skilled 
in  the  delicate  work  of  absorbing  the  victim. 
Instead  of  the  clean  white  granule  which  is 
the  sole  residue  when  the  Fly  has  finished  her 
joint,  the  insect  with  the  long  probe  has  a 
plateful  of  leavings,  not  seldom  soiled  with 
the  brownish  tinge  of  food  that  has  gone  bad. 
It  would  seem  that,  towards  the  end,  the  act 
of  consumption  becomes  more  savage  and  does 
not  disdain  dead  meat.  I  also  notice  that  the 


The  Leucospes 

Leucospis  is  not  able  to  get  up  from  dinner 
or  to  sit  down  to  it  again  as  readily  as  the 
Anthrax.  I  have  sometimes  to  tease  him  with 
the  point  of  a  hair-pencil  in  order  to  make 
him  let  go;  and,  once  he  has  left  the  joint,  he 
hesitates  a  little  before  putting  his  mouth  to 
it  again.  His  adhesion  is  not  the  mere  result 
of  a  kiss  like  that  of  a  cupping-glass;  it  can 
only  be  explained  by  hooks  that  need  relea- 
sing. 

I  now  see  the  use  of  the  microscopic  man- 
dibles. Those  two  delicate  spikes  are  inca- 
pable of  chewing  anything,  but  they  may  very 
well  serve  to  pierce  the  epidermis  with  an 
aperture  smaller  than  that  made  by  the  finest 
needle;  and  it  is  through  this  puncture  that 
the  Leucospis  sucks  the  juices  of  his  prey. 
They  are  instruments  made  to  perforate  the 
bag  of  fat  which  slowly,  without  suffering  any 
internal  injury,  is  emptied  through  an  open- 
ing repeated  here  and  there.  The  Anthrax' 
cupping-glass  is  here  replaced  by  piercers  of 
exceeding  sharpness  and  so  short  that  they 
cannot  hurt  anything  beyond  the  skin.  Thus 
do  we  see  in  operation,  with  a  different  sort 
of  implement,  that  wise  system  which  keeps 
the  provisions  fresh  for  the  consumer. 
281 


The  Mason-bees 

It  is  hardly  necessary  to  say,  to  those  who 
have  read  the  story  of  the  Anthrax,  that  this 
kind  of  feeding  would  be  impossible  with  a 
victim  whose  tissues  possessed  their  final 
hardness.  The  Mason-bee's  grub  is  therefore 
emptied  by  the  Leucospis'  larva  while  it  is  in 
a  semifluid  state  and  deep  in  the  torpor  of  the 
nymphosis.  The  last  fortnight  in  July  and 
the  first  fortnight  in  August  are  the  best  times 
to  witness  the  repast,  which  I  have  seen  go- 
ing on  for  twelve  or  fourteen  days.  Later, 
we  find  nothing  in  the  Mason-bee's  cocoon 
except  the  Leucospis'  larva,  gloriously  fat, 
and,  by  its  side,  a  sort  of  thin,  rancid  rasher, 
the  remains  of  the  deceased  wet-nurse. 
Things  then  remain  as  they  are  until  the  hot 
part  of  the  following  summer  or  at  least  un- 
til the  end  of  June. 

Then  appears  the  nymph,  which  teaches  us 
nothing  striking;  and  at  last  the  perfect  in- 
sect, whose  hatching  may  be  delayed  until 
August.  Its  exit  from  the  Mason's  fortress 
has  no  likeness  to  the  strange  method  em- 
ployed by  the  Anthrax.  Endowed  with  stout 
mandibles,  the  perfect  insect  splits  the  ceiling 
of  its  abode  by  itself  without  much  difficulty. 
At  the  time  of  its  deliverance,  the  Mason- 
282 


The  Leucospes 

bees,  who  work  in  May,  have  long  disap- 
peared. The  nests  on  the  pebbles  are  all 
closed,  the  provisioning  is  finished,  the  larvae 
are  sleeping  in  their  yellow  cocoons.  As  the 
old  nests  are  utilized  by  the  Mason  so  long  as 
they  are  not  too  much  dilapidated,  the  dome 
which  has  just  been  vacated  by  the  Leucospis, 
now  more  than  a  year  old,  has  its  other  cells 
occupied  by  the  Bee's  children.  There  is 
here,  without  seeking  farther,  a  fat  living  for 
the  Leucospis'  offspring  which  she  well  knows 
how  to  turn  to  profit.  It  depends  but  on  her- 
self to  make  the  house  in  which  she  was  born 
into  the  residence  of  her  family.  Besides,  if 
she  has  a  fancy  for  distant  exploration,  clay 
domes  abound  in  the  harmas.  The  inocula- 
tion of  the  eggs  through  the  walls  will  begin, 
shortly.  Before  witnessing  this  curious  per- 
formance, let  us  examine  the  needle  that  is  to 
effect  it. 

The  insect's  abdomen  is  hollowed,  at  the 
top,  into  a  furrow  that  runs  up  to  the  base  of 
the  thorax;  the  end,  which  is  broader  and 
rounded,  has  a  narrow  slit,  which  seems  to 
divide  this  region  into  two.  The  whole  thing 
suggests  a  pulley  with  a  fine  groove.  When 
at  rest,  the  inoculating-needle  or  ovipositor  re- 
283 


The  Mason-bees 

mains  packed  in  the  slit  and  the  furrow.  The 
delicate  instrument  thus  almost  completely  en- 
circles the  abdomen.  Underneath,  on  the 
median  line,  we  see  a  long,  dark-brown  scale, 
pointed,  keel-shaped,  fixed  by  its  base  to  the 
first  abdominal  segment,  with  its  sides  pro- 
longed into  membranous  wings  which  are  fast- 
ened tightly  to  the  insect's  flands.  Its  func- 
tion is  to  protect  the  underlying  region,  a 
soft-walled  region  in  which  the  probe  has  its 
source.  It  is  a  cuirass,  a  lid  which  protects 
the  delicate  motor-machinery  during  periods 
of  inactivity  but  swings  from  back  to  front 
and  lifts  when  the  implement  has  to  be  un- 
sheathed and  used. 

We  will  now  remove  this  lid  with  the  scis- 
sors, so  as  to  have  the  whole  apparatus  before 
our  eyes,  and  then  raise  the  ovipositor  with 
the  point  of  a  needle.  The  part  that  runs 
along  the  back  comes  loose  without  the  slight- 
est difficulty,  but  the  part  embedded  in  the 
groove  at  the  end  of  the  abdomen  offers  a  re- 
sistance that  warns  us  of  a  complication 
which  we  did  not  notice  at  first.  The  tool, 
in  fact,  consists  of  three  pieces,  a  central  piece, 
or  inoculating-filament,  and  two  side-pieces, 
which  together  constitute  a  scabbard.  The 
284 


The  Leucospes 

two  latter  are  more  substantial  and  are  hol- 
lowed out  like  the  sides  of  a  groove  and,  when 
they  are  united,  form  a  complete  groove  in 
which  the  filament  is  sheathed.  This  bival- 
vular  scabbard  adheres  loosely  to  the  dorsal 
part;  but,  farther  on,  at  the  tip  of  the  abdo- 
men and  under  the  belly,  it  can  no  longer  be 
detached,  as  its  valves  are  welded  to  the  ab- 
dominal wall.  Here,  therefore,  we  find,  be- 
tween the  two  joined  protecting  parts,  a  sim- 
ple trench  in  which  the  filament  lies  covered 
up.  As  for  this  filament,  it  is  easily  extracted 
from  its  sheath  and  released  down  to  its  base, 
under  the  shield  formed  by  the  scale. 

Seen  under  the  magnifying-glass,  it  is  a 
round,  stiff,  horny  thread,  midway  in  thick- 
ness between  a  human  hair  and  a  horse-hair. 
Its  tip  is  a  little  rough,  pointed  and  bevelled 
to  some  length  down.  The  microscope  be- 
comes necessary  if  we  would  see  its  real  struc- 
ture, which  is  much  less  simple  than  it  at  first 
appears.  We  perceive  that  the  bevelled  end- 
part  consists  of  a  series  of  truncated  cones, 
fitting  one  into  the  other,  with  their  wide  base 
slightly  projecting.  This  arrangement  pro- 
duces a  sort  of  file,  a  sort  of  rasp,  with  very 
much  blunted  teeth.  When  pressed  on  the 
285 


The  Mason-bees 

slide,  the  thread  divides  into  four  pieces  of 
unequal  length.  The  two  longer  end  in  the 
toothed  bevel.  They  come  together  in  a  very 
narrow  groove,  which  receives  the  two  other, 
rather  shorter  pieces.  These  both  end  in  a 
point,  which,  however,  is  not  toothed  and 
does  not  project  as  far  as  the  final  rasp.  They 
also  unite  to  form  a  groove,  which  fits  into  the 
groove  of  the  other  two,  the  whole  constitu- 
ting a  complete  channel  or  duct.  Moreover, 
the  two  shorter  pieces,  considered  together, 
can  move,  lengthwise,  in  the  groove  that  re- 
ceives them ;  they  can  also  move  one  over  the 
other,  always  lengthwise,  so  much  so  that,  on 
the  slide  of  the  microscope,  their  terminal 
points  are  seldom  situated  on  the  same  level. 
If  with  our  scissors  we  cut  a  piece  of  the 
inoculating-thread  from  the  living  insect  and 
examine  the  section  under  the  magnifying- 
glass,  we  shall  see  the  inner  groove  lengthen 
out  and  project  beyond  the  outer  groove  and 
then  go  in  again  in  turn,  while  from  the 
wound  there  oozes  a  tiny  albuminous  drop, 
doubtless  proceeding  from  the  liquid  that 
gives  the  egg  the  singular  appendage  to  which 
we  shall  come  presently.  By  means  of  these 
longitudinal  movements  of  the  inner  trench 


The  Leucospes 

inside  the  outer  trench  and  of  the  sliding,  one 
over  the  other,  of  the  two  portions  of  the 
former,  the  egg  can  be  dispatched  to  the  end 
of  the  ovipositor  notwithstanding  the  absence 
of  any  muscular  contraction,  which  is  impos- 
sible in  a  horny  conduit. 

We  have  only  to  press  the  upper  surface  of 
the  abdomen  to  see  it  disjoint  itself  from  the 
first  segment,  as  though  the  insect  had  been 
cut  almost  in  two  at  that  point.  A  wide  gap 
or  hiatus  appears  between  the  first  and  second 
rings;  and,  under  a  thin  membrane,  the  base 
of  the  ovipositor  bulges  out,  bent  back  into  a 
stout  hook.  Here  the  filament  passes  through 
the  insect  from  end  to  end  and  emerges  un- 
derneath. Its  issue  is  therefore  near  the  base 
of  the  abdomen,  instead  of  at  the  tip,  as  usual. 
This  curious  arrangement  has  the  effect  of 
shortening  the  lever-arm  of  the  ovipositor  and 
bringing  the  starting-point  of  the  filament 
nearer  to  the  fulcrum,  namely,  the  legs  of  the 
insect,  and  of  thus  assisting  the  difficult  task 
of  inoculation  by  making  the  most  of  the  ef- 
fort expended. 

To  sum  up,  the  ovipositor  when  at  rest 
goes  round  the  abdomen.  Starting  at  the 
base,  on  the  lower  surface,  it  runs  round  the 


The  Mason-bees 

belly  from  front  to  back  and  then  returns 
from  back  to  front  on  the  upper  surface, 
where  it  ends  at  almost  the  same  level  as  its 
starting-point.  Its  length  is  14  millimetres.1 
This  fixes  the  limit  of  the  depth  which  the 
probe  is  able  to  reach  in  the  Mason-bee's 
nests. 

One  last  word  on  the  Leucospis'  weapon. 
In  the  dying  insect,  beheaded,  stripped  of 
legs  and  wings,  with  a  pin  stuck  through  its 
body,  the  sides  of  the  fissure  containing  the 
inoculating-thread  quiver  violently,  as  if  the 
belly  were  going  to  open,  divide  in  two  along 
the  median  line  and  then  reunite  its  two 
halves.  The  thread  itself  gives  convulsive 
tremblings ;  it  comes  out  of  its  scabbard,  goes 
back  and  slips  out  again.  It  is  as  though  the 
laying-implement  could  not  persuade  itself  to 
die  before  accomplishing  its  mission.  The  in- 
sect's supreme  aim  is  the  egg;  and,  so  long  as 
the  least  spark  of  life  remains,  it  makes  dying 
efforts  to  lay. 

Leucospis  gigas  exploits  the  nests  of  the 
Mason-bee  of  the  Pebbles  and  the  Mason- 
bee  of  the  Sheds  with  equal  zest.  To  observe 

1-546  inch. — Translator's  Note. 


The  Leucospes 

the  insertion  of  the  egg  at  my  ease  and  to 
watch  the  operator  at  work  over  and  over 
again,  I  gave  the  preference  to  the  last-named 
Mason,  whose  nests,  removed  from  the  neigh- 
bouring roofs  by  my  orders,  have  hung  for 
some  years  in  the  arch  of  my  basement. 
These  clay  hives  fastened  to  tiles  supply  me 
with  fresh  records  each  summer.  I  am  much 
indebted  to  them  in  the  matter  of  the  Leucos- 
pis'  life-history. 

By  way  of  comparison  with  what  took 
place  under  my  roof,  I  used  to  observe  the 
same  scenes  on  the  pebbles  of  the  surrounding 
waste-lands.  My  excursions,  alas,  did  not  all 
reward  my  zeal,  which  zeal  was  not  without 
merit  in  the  merciless  sunshine;  but  still,  at 
rare  intervals,  I  succeeded  in  seeing  some  Leu- 
cospis  digging  her  probe  into  the  mortar 
dome.  Lying  flat  on  the  ground,  from  the 
beginning  to  the  end  of  the  operation,  which 
sometimes  lasted  for  hours,  I  closely  watched 
the  insect  in  its  every  movement,  while  my 
Dog,  weary  of  being  out  of  doors  in  that 
scorching  heat,  would  discreetly  retire  from 
the  fray  and,  with  his  tail  between  his  legs 
and  his  tongue  hanging  out,  go  home  and 
stretch  himself  at  full  length  on  the  cool  tiles 
289 


The  Mason-bees 

of  the  hall.  How  wise  he  was  to  scorn  this 
pebble-gazing !  I  would  come  in  half-roasted, 
as  brown  as  a  berry,  to  find  my  friend  Bull 
wedged  into  a  corner,  his  back  to  the  wall, 
sprawling  on  all  fours,  while,  with  heaving 
sides,  he  panted  forth  the  last  sprays  of  steam 
from  his  overheated  interior.  Yes,  he  was 
much  better-advised  to  return  as  fast  as  he 
could  to  the  shade  of  the  house.  Why  does 
man  want  to  know  things  ?  Why  is  he  not  in- 
different to  them,  with  the  lofty  philosophy 
of  the  animals?  What  interest  can  anything 
have  for  us  that  does  not  fill  our  stomachs? 
What  is  the  use  of  learning?  What  is  the 
use  of  truth,  when  profit  is  all  that  matters? 
Why  am  I — the  descendant,  so  they  tell  me, 
of  some  tertiary  Baboon — afflicted  with  the 
passion  for  knowledge  from  which  Bull,  my 
friend  and  companion,  is  exempt?  Why  .  .  . 
oh,  were  have  I  got  to?  I  was  going  in, 
wasn't  I,  with  a  splitting  headache?  Quick, 
let  us  get  back  to  our  subject! 

It  was  in  the  first  week  in  July  that  I  saw 
the  inoculation  begin  on  my  Chalicodoma  si- 
cula  nests.  The  parasite  is  at  her  task  in  the 
hottest  part  of  the  day,  close  on  three 
o'clock  in  the  afternoon;  and  work  goes  on 
290 


The  Leucospes 

almost  to  the  end  of  the  month,  decreasing 
gradually  in  activity.  I  count  as  many  as 
twelve  Leucospes  at  a  time  on  the  most 
thickly-populated  pair  of  tiles.  The  insect 
slowly  and  awkwardly  explores  the  nests.  It 
feels  the  surface  with  its  antennae,  which  are 
bent  at  a  right  angle  after  the  first  joint. 
Then,  motionless,  with  bent  head,  it  seems  to 
meditate  and  to  debate  within  itself  on  the 
fitness  of  the  spot.  Is  it  here  or  somewhere 
else  that  the  coveted  larva  lies?  There  is 
nothing  outside,  absolutely  nothing,  to  tell  us. 
It  is  a  stony  expanse,  bumpy  but  yet  very  uni- 
form in  appearance,  for  the  cells  have  disap- 
peared under  a  layer  of  plaster,  a  work  of 
public  interest  to  which  the  whole  swarm  de- 
votes its  last  days.  If  I  myself,  with  my  long 
experience,  had  to  decide  upon  the  suitable 
point,  even  if  I  were  at  liberty  to  make  use 
of  a  lens  for  examining  the  mortar  grain  by 
grain  and  to  auscultate  the  surface  in  order  to 
gather  information  from  the  sound  emitted, 
I  should  decline  the  job,  persuaded  in  ad- 
vance that  I  should  fail  nine  times  out  of  ten 
and  only  succeed  by  chance. 

Where  my  discernment,   aided  by  reason 
and  my  optical  contrivances,  fails,  the  insect, 
291 


The  Mason-bees 

guided  by  the  wands  of  its  antennae,  never 
blunders.  Its  choice  is  made.  See  it  un- 
sheathing its  long  instrument.  The  probe 
points  normally  towards  the  surface  and  oc- 
cupies nearly  the  central  spot  between  the  two 
middle-legs.  A  wide  dislocation  appears  on 
the  back,  between  the  first  and  second  seg- 
ments of  the  abdomen;  and  the  base  of  the 
instrument  swells  like  a  bladder  through  this 
opening,  while  the  point  strives  to  penetrate 
the  hard  clay.  The  amount  of  energy  ex- 
pended is  shown  by  the  way  in  which  the 
bladder  quivers.  At  every  moment  we  ex- 
pect to  see  the  frail  membrane  burst  with  the 
violence  of  the  effort.  But  it  does  not  give 
way;  and  the  wire  goes  deeper  and  deeper. 

Raising  itself  high  on  its  legs,  to  give  free 
play  to  its  apparatus,  the  insect  remains  mo- 
tionless, the  only  sign  of  its  arduous  labours 
being  a  slight  vibration.  I  see  some  perfora- 
tors who  have  finished  operating  in  a  quarter 
of  an  hour.  These  are  the  quickest  at  the 
business.  They  have  been  lucky  enough  to 
come  across  a  wall  which  is  less  thick  and  less 
hard  than  usual.  I  see  others  who  spend  as 
many  as  three  hours  on  a  single  operation, 
three  long  hours  of  patient  watching  for  me, 
292 


The  Leucospes 

in  my  anxiety  to  follow  the  whole  perform- 
ance to  the  end,  three  long  hours  of  immo- 
bility for  the  insect,  which  is  even  more  an- 
xious to  make  sure  of  board  and  lodging  for 
its  egg.  But  then  is  it  not  a  task  of  the  ut- 
most difficulty  to  introduce  a  hair  into  the 
thickness  of  a  stone?  To  us,  with  all  the  dex- 
terity of  our  fingers,  it  would  be  impossible ; 
to  the  insect,  which  simply  pushes  with  its 
belly,  it  is  just  hard  work. 

Notwithstanding  the  resistance  of  the  sub- 
stance traversed,  the  Leucospis  perseveres, 
certain  of  succeeding;  and  she  does  succeed, 
although  I  am  still  unable  to  understand  her 
success.  The  material  through  which  the 
probe  has  to  penetrate  is  not  a  porous  sub- 
stance; it  is  homogeneous  and  compact,  like 
our  hardened  cement.  In  vain  do  I  direct  my 
attention  to  the  exact  point  where  the  instru- 
ment is  at  work ;  I  see  no  fissure,  no  opening 
that  can  facilitate  access.  A  miner's  drill 
penetrates  the  rock  only  by  pulverizing  it. 
This  method  is  not  admissible  here;  the  ex- 
treme delicacy  of  the  instrument  is  opposed 
to  it.  The  frail  stem  requires,  so  it  seems  to 
me,  a  ready-made  way,  a  crevice  through 
which  it  can  slip ;  but  this  crevice  I  have  never 
293 


The  Mason-bees 

been  able  to  discover.  What  about  a  dissol- 
ving-fluid which  would  soften  the  mortar  un- 
der the  point  of  the  ovipositor?  No,  for  I 
see  not  a  trace  of  humidity  around  the  point 
where  the  thread  is  at  work.  I  fall  back 
upon  a  fissure,  a  lack  of  continuity  somewhere, 
although  my  examination  fails  to  discover  any 
on  the  Mason-bee's  nest.  I  was  better  served 
in  another  case.  Leucopsis  dorsigera,  FAB., 
settles  her  eggs  on  the  larva  of  the  Diadem 
Anthidium,  who  sometimes  makes  her  nest  in 
reed-stumps.  I  have  repeatedly  seen  her  in- 
serting her  auger  through  a  slight  rupture  in 
the  channel.  As  the  wall  was  different,  wood 
in  the  latter  case  and  mortar  in  the  former, 
perhaps  it  will  be  best  to  look  upon  the  mat- 
ter as  a  mystery. 

My  sedulous  attendance,  during  the  best 
part  of  July,  in  front  of  the  tiles  hanging 
from  the  walls  of  the  arch,  allowed  me  to 
reckon  the  inoculations.  Each  time  that  the 
insect,  on  finishing  the  operation,  removed  its 
probe,  I  marked  in  pencil  the  exact  point  at 
which  the  instrument  was  withdrawn;  and  I 
wrote  down  the  date  beside  it.  This  inform- 
ation was  to  be  utilized  when  the  Leucospis 
finished  her  labours. 

294 


The  Leucospes 

When  the  perforators  are  gone,  I  proceed 
with  my  examination  of  the  nests,  covered 
with  my  hieroglyphics,  the  pencilled  notes. 
One  result,  one  which  I  fully  expected,  com- 
pensates me  straightway  for  all  my  weary 
waitings.  Under  each  spot  marked  in  black, 
under  each  spot  whence  I  saw  the  ovipositor 
withdrawn,  I  always  find  a  cell,  with  not  a 
single  exception.  And  yet  there  are  intervals 
of  solid  stone  between  the  cells :  the  partition- 
walls  alone  would  account  for  some.  More- 
over, the  compartments,  which  are  very  ir- 
regularly disposed  by  a  swarm  of  toilers  who 
all  work  in  their  own  sweet  way,  have  great 
irregular  cavities  between  them,  which  end 
by  being  filled  up  with  the  general  plastering 
of  the  nest.  The  result  of  this  arrangement 
is  that  the  massive  portions  cover  almost  the 
same  space  as  the  hollow  portions.  There  is 
nothing  outside  to  show  whether  the  under- 
lying regions  are  full  or  empty.  It  is  quite  im- 
possible for  me  to  decide  if,  by  digging 
straight  down,  I  shall  come  to  a  hollow  cell 
or  to  a  solid  wall. 

But  the  insect  makes  no  mistake:  the  ex- 
cavations under  my  pencil-marks  bear  witness 
to  that;  it  always  directs  its  apparatus  to- 

295 


The  Mason-bees 

wards  the  hollow  of  a  cell.  How  is  it  apprised 
whether  the  part  below  is  empty  or  full?  Its 
organs  of  information  are  undoubtedly  the 
antennae,  which  feel  the  ground.  They  are 
two  fingers  of  unparalleled  delicacy,  which 
pry  into  the  basement  by  tapping  on  the  part 
above  it.  Then  what  do  those  puzzling  or- 
gans perceive?  A  smell?  Not  at  all;  I  al- 
ways had  my  doubts  of  that  and  now  I  am 
certain  of  the  contrary,  after  what  I  shall  de- 
scribe in  a  moment.  Do  they  perceive  a 
sound?  Are  we  to  treat  them  as  a  superior 
kind  of  microphone,  capable  of  collecting  the 
infinitesimal  echoes  of  what  is  full  and  the 
reverberations  of  what  is  empty?  It  is  an  at- 
tractive idea,  but  unfortunately  the  antennae 
play  their  part  equally  well  on  a  host  of  oc- 
casions when  there  are  no  vaults  to  reverbe- 
rate. We  know  nothing  and  are  perhaps  de- 
stined never  to  know  anything  of  the  real 
value  of  the  antennal  sense,  to  which  we  have 
nothing  analogous;  but,  though  it  is  impos- 
sible for  us  to  say  what  it  does  perceive,  we 
are  at  least  able  to  recognize  to  some  extent 
what  it  does  not  perceive  and,  in  particular, 
to  deny  it  the  faculty  of  smell. 

As  a  matter  of  fact,  I  notice,  with  extreme 
296 


The  Leucospes 

surprise,  that  the  great  majority  of  the  cells 
visited  by  the  Leucospis'  probe  do  not  con- 
tain the  one  thing  which  the  insect  is  seeking, 
namely,  the  young  larva  of  the  Mason-bee  en- 
closed in  its  cocoon.  Their  contents  consists 
of  the  refuge  so  often  met  with  in  old  Chali- 
codoma-nests :  liquid  honey  left  unemployed, 
because  the  egg  has  perished;  spoilt  provi- 
sions, sometimes  mildewed,  or  sometimes  a 
tarry  mass;  a  dead  larva,  stiffened  into  a 
brown  cylinder;  the  shrivelled  corpse  of  a  per- 
fect insect,  which  lacked  the  strength  to  effect 
its  deliverance;  dust  and  rubbish  which  has 
come  from  the  exit-window  afterwards  closed 
up  by  the  outer  coating  of  plaster.  The  odori- 
ferous effluvia  that  can  emanate  from  these 
relics  certainly  possess  very  diverse  charac- 
ters. A  sense  of  smell  with  any  subtlety  at  all 
would  not  be  deceived  by  this  stuff,  sour, 
"high,"  musty  or  tarry  as  the  case  may  be; 
each  compartment,  according  to  its  contents, 
has  a  special  aroma,  which  we  might  or  might 
not  be  able  to  perceive;  and  this  aroma  most 
certainly  bears  no  resemblance  to  that  which 
we  may  assume  the  much-desired  fresh  larva 
to  possess.  If  nevertheless  the  Leucospis  does 
not  distinguish  between  these  various  cells 
297 


The  Mason-bees 

and  drives  the  probe  into  all  of  them  indiffer- 
ently, is  this  not  an  evident  proof  that  smell 
is  no  guide  whatever  to  her  in  her  search? 
Other  considerations,  when  I  was  treating  of 
the  Hairy  Ammophila,  enabled  me  to  assert 
that  the  antennae  have  no  olfactory  powers. 
To-day,  the  frequent  mistakes  of  the  Leucos- 
pis,  whose  antennae  are  nevertheless  constantly 
exploring  the  surface,  make  this  conclusion 
absolutely  certain. 

The  perforator  of  clay  nests  has,  so  it  seems 
to  me,  delivered  us  from  an  old  physiological 
fallacy.  She  would  deserve  studying,  if  for 
no  other  result  than  this;  but  her  interest  is 
far  from  being  exhausted.  Let  us  look  at  her 
from  another  point  of  view,  whose  full  im- 
portance will  not  be  apparent  until  the  end; 
let  us  speak  of  something  which  I  was  very 
far  from  suspecting  when  I  was  so  assidu- 
ously watching  the  nests  of  my  Mason- 
bees. 

The  same  cell  can  receive  the  Leucospis' 
probe  a  number  of  times,  at  intervals  of  se- 
veral days.  I  have  said  how  I  used  to  mark 
in  black  the  exact  place  at  which  the  laying- 
implement  had  entered  and  how  I  wrote  the 
date  of  the  operation  beside  it.  Well,  at 
298 


The  Leucospes 

many  of  these  already  visited  spots,  concern- 
ing which  I  possessed  the  most  authentic  docu- 
ments, I  saw  the  insect  return  a  second,  a 
third  and  even  a  fourth  time,  either  on  the 
same  day  or  some  while  after,  and  drive  its 
inoculating-thread  in  again,  at  precisely  the 
same  place,  as  though  nothing  had  happened. 
Was  it  the  same  individual  repeating  her 
operation  in  a  cell  which  she  had  visited  be- 
fore but  forgotten,  or  different  individuals 
coming  one  after  the  other  to  lay  an  egg  in  a 
compartment  thought  to  be  unoccupied?  I 
cannot  say,  having  neglected  to  mark  the 
operators,  for  fear  of  disturbing  them. 

As  there  is  nothing,  except  the  mark  of  my 
pencil,  a  mark  devoid  of  meaning  to  the  in- 
sect, to  indicate  that  the  auger  has  already 
been  at  work  there,  it  may  easily  happen  that 
the  same  operator,  finding  under  her  feet  a 
spot  already  exploited  by  herself  but  effaced 
from  her  memory,  repeats  the  thrust  of  her 
tool  in  a  compartment  which  she  believes  her- 
self to  be  discovering  for  the  first  time.  How- 
ever retentive  its  memory  for  places  may  be, 
we  cannot  admit  that  the  insect  remembers 
for  weeks  on  end,  as  well  as  point  by  point, 
the  topography  of  a  nest  covering  a  surface 
299 


The  Mason-bees 

of  some  square  yards.  Its  recollections,  if  it 
have  any,  serve  it  badly;  the  outward  appear- 
ance gives  it  no  information;  and  its  drill  en- 
ters wherever  it  may  happen  to  discover  a 
cell,  at  points  that  have  already  perhaps  been 
pierced  several  times  over. 

It  may  also  happen — and  this  appears  to 
me  the  most  frequent  case — that  one  exploiter 
of  a  cell  is  succeeded  by  a  second,  a  third,  a 
fourth  and  others  still,  all  fired  with  the  new- 
comer's zeal  because  their  predecessors  have 
left  no  trace  of  their  passage.  In  one  way 
or  another,  the  same  cell  is  exposed  to  mani- 
fold layings,  though  its  contents,  the  Chali- 
codoma-grub,  be  only  the  bare  ration  of  a 
single  Leucospis-grub. 

These  reiterated  borings  are  not  at  all  rare : 
I  noted  a  score  of  them  on  my  tiles;  and,  in 
the  case  of  some  cells,  the  operation  was  re- 
peated before  my  eyes  as  often  as  four  times. 
Nothing  tells  us  that  this  number  was  not 
exceeded  in  my  absence.  The  little  that  I  ob- 
served prevents  me  from  fixing  any  limit. 
And  now  a  momentous  question  arises :  is  the 
egg  really  laid  each  time  that  the  probe  enters 
a  cell?  I  can  see  not  the  slightest  excuse  for 
supposing  the  contrary.  The  ovipositor,  be- 
300 


The  Leucospes 

cause  of  its  horny  nature,  can  have  but  a  very 
dull  sense  of  touch.  The  insect  is  only  ap- 
prised of  the  contents  of  the  cell  by  the  end 
of  that  long  horse-hair,  a  not  very  trust- 
worthy witness,  I  should  imagine.  The  ab- 
sence of  resistance  tells  it  that  it  has  reached 
an  empty  space;  and  this  is  probably  the  only 
information  that  the  insensible  implement  can 
supply.  The  drill  boring  through  the  rock 
cannot  tell  the  miner  anything  about  the  con- 
tents of  the  cavern  which  it  has  entered ;  and 
the  case  must  be  the  same  with  the  rigid  fila- 
ment of  the  Leucospes. 

Now  that  it  has  reached  its  goal,  what  does 
the  cell  contain?  Mildewed  honey,  dust  and 
rubbish,  a  shrivelled  larva,  or  a  larva  in 
proper  condition?  Above  all,  does  it  already 
contain  an  egg?  This  last  question  calls  for 
a  definite  answer,  but  as  a  matter  of  fact  it  is 
impossible  for  the  insect  to  learn  anything 
from  a  horse-hair  on  that  most  delicate  mat- 
ter, the  presence  or  absence  of  an  egg,  a  mere 
atom  of  a  thing,  in  that  vast  apartment. 
Even  admitting  some  sense  of  touch  at  the 
end  of  the  drill,  one  insuperable  difficulty 
would  always  remain:  that  of  finding  the  ex- 
act spot  where  the  tiny  speck  lies  in  those 
301 


The  Mason-bees 

spacious  and  mysterious  regions.  I  go  so  far 
as  to  believe  that  the  ovipositor  tells  the  in- 
sect nothing,  or  at  any  rate  very  little,  of  the 
inside  of  the  cell,  whether  propitious  or  not  to 
the  development  of  the  germ.  Perhaps  each 
thrust  of  the  instrument,  provided  that  it 
meets  with  no  resistance  from  solid  matter, 
lays  the  egg,  to  whose  lot  there  falls  at  one 
time  good,  wholesome  food,  at  another  mere 
refuse. 

These  anomalies  call  for  more  conclusive 
proofs  than  the  rough  deductions  drawn  from 
the  nature  of  the  horny  ovipositor.  We  must 
ascertain  in  a  direct  fashion  whether  the  cell 
into  which  the  auger  has  been  driven  several 
times  over  actually  contains  several  occupants 
in  addition  to  the  larva  of  the  Mason-bee. 
When  the  Leucospes  had  finished  their  bo- 
rings, I  waited  a  few  days  longer  so  as  to  give 
the  young  grubs  time  to  develop  a  little,  which 
would  make  my  examination  easier.  I  then 
moved  the  tiles  to  the  table  in  my  study,  in 
order  to  investigate  their  secrets  with  the 
most  scrupulous  care.  And  here  such  a  dis- 
appointment as  I  have  rarely  known  awaited 
me.  The  cells  which  I  had  seen,  actually  seen, 
with  my  own  eyes,  pierced  by  the  probe  two 
302 


The  Leucospes 

or  three  or  even  four  times,  contained  but  one 
Leucospis-grub,  one  alone,  eating  away  at  its 
Chalicodoma.  Others,  which  had  also  been 
repeatedly  probed,  contained  spoilt  remnants, 
but  never  a  Leucospis.  O  holy  patience,  I 
entreat  thee,  give  me  the  courage  to  begin 
again!  Dispel  the  darkness  and  deliver  me 
from  doubt! 

I  begin  again.  The  Leucospis-grub  is  fa- 
miliar to  me ;  I  can  recognize  it,  without  the 
possibility  of  a  mistake,  in  the  nests  of  both 
the  Chalicodoma  of  the  Pebbles  and  the 
Chalicodoma  of  the  Sheds.  All  through  the 
winter,  I  rush  about,  getting  my  nests  from 
the  roofs  of  old  sheds  and  the  pebbles  of  the 
waste-lands ;  I  stuff  my  pockets  with  them,  fill 
my  box,  load  Favier's  knapsack;  I  collect 
enough  to  litter  all  the  tables  in  my  study; 
and,  when  it  is  too  cold  out  of  doors,  when 
the  biting  mistral  blows,  I  tear  open  the  fine 
silk  of  the  cocoons  to  discover  the  inhabitant. 
Most  of  them  contain  the  Mason  in  the  per- 
fect state ;  others  give  me  the  larva  of  the 
Anthrax ;  others — very  numerous,  these — give 
me  the  larva  of  the  Leucospis.  And  this  last 
is  alone,  always  alone,  invariably  alone.  The 
whole  thing  is  utterly  incomprehensible  when 
303 


The  Mason-bees 

one  knows,  as  I  knew,  how  many  times  the 
probe  entered  those  cells. 

My  perplexity  only  increases  when,  on  the 
return  of  summer,  I  witness  for  the  second 
time  the  Leucospis'  repeated  operations  on  the 
same  cells  and  for  the  second  time  find  a  sin- 
gle larva  in  the  compartments  which  have 
been  bored  several  times  over.  Shall  I  then 
be  forced  to  accept  that  the  auger  is  able  to 
recognize  the  cells  already  containing  an  egg 
and  that  it  thenceforth  refrains  from  laying 
there?  Must  I  admit  an  extraordinary  sense 
of  touch  in  that  bit  of  horse-hair,  or  even  bet- 
ter, a  sort  of  divination  which  declares  where 
the  egg  lies  without  having  to  touch  it?  But 
I  am  raving!  There  is  certainly  something 
that  escapes  me;  and  the  obscurity  of  the 
problem  is  simply  due  to  my  incomplete  in- 
formation. O  patience,  supreme  virtue  of 
the  observer,  come  to  my  aid  once  more  1  I 
must  begin  all  over  again  for  the  third  time. 

Until  now,  my  investigations  have  been 
made  some  time  after  the  laying,  at  a  period 
when  the  larva  is  at  least  fairly  developed. 
Who  knows?  Something  perhaps  happens, 
at  the  very  commencement  of  infancy,  that 
may  mislead  me  afterwards.  I  must  apply  to 
304 


The  Leucospes 

the  egg  itself  if  I  would  learn  the  secret  which 
the  grub  will  not  reveal.  I  therefore  resume 
my  observations  in  the  first  fortnight  of  July, 
when  the  Leucospes  are  beginning  to  visit 
busily  both  Mason-bees'  nests.  The  pebbles 
in  the  waste-lands  supply  me  with  plenty  of 
buildings  of  the  Chalicodoma  of  the  Walls; 
the  byres  scattered  here  and  there  in  the  fields 
give  me,  under  their  dilapidated  roofs,  in 
fragments  broken  off  with  the  chisel,  the  edi- 
fices of  the  Chalicodoma  of  the  Sheds.  I  am 
anxious  not  to  complete  the  destruction  of  my 
home  hives,  already  so  sorely  tried  by  my  ex- 
periments ;  they  have  taught  me  much  and  can 
teach  me  more.  Alien  colonies,  picked  up 
more  or  less  everywhere,  provide  me  with  my 
booty.  With  my  lens  in  one  hand  and  my 
forceps  in  the  other,  I  go  through  my  collec- 
tion on  the  same  day,  with  the  prudence  and 
care  which  only  the  laboratory-table  permits. 
The  results  at  first  fall  far  short  of  my  ex- 
pectations. I  see  nothing  that  I  have  not  seen 
before.  I  make  fresh  expeditions,  after  a 
few  days'  interval;  I  bring  back  fresh  loads 
of  lumps  of  mortar,  until  at  last  fortune 
smiles  upon  me. 

Reason   was  not  at   fault.    Each   thrust 
305 


The  Mason-bees 

means  the  laying  of  an  egg  when  the  probe 
reaches  the  cell.  Here  is  a  cocoon  of  the 
Mason-bee  of  the  Pebbles  with  an  egg  side  by 
side  with  the  Chalicodoma-grub.  But  what 
a  curious  egg!  Never  have  my  eyes  beheld 
the  like;  and  then  is  it  really  the  egg  of  the 
Leucospis?  Great  was  my  apprehension. 
But  I  breathed  again  when  I  found,  a  couple 
of  weeks  later,  that  the  egg  had  become  the 
larva  with  which  I  was  familiar.  Those  co- 
coons with  a  single  egg  are  as  numerous  as  I 
can  wish;  they  exceed  my  wishes:  my  little 
glass  receptacles  are  too  few  to  hold  them. 

And  here  are  others,  more  precious  ones 
still,  with  manifold  layings.  I  find  plenty 
with  two  eggs;  I  find  some  with  three  or 
four;  the  best-colonized  offer  me  as  many  as 
five.  And,  to  crown  my  delight,  the  joy  of 
the  seeker  to  whom  success  comes  at  the  last 
moment,  when  he  is  on  the  verge  of  despair, 
here  again,  duly  furnished  with  an  egg,  is  a 
sterile  cocoon,  that  is  to  say,  one  containing 
only  a  shrivelled  and  decaying  larva.  All  my 
suspicions  are  confirmed,  down  to  the  most 
inconsequent :  the  egg  housed  with  a  mass  of 
putrefaction 

The  nests  of  the  Mason-bee  of  the  Walls 
306 


The  Leucospes 

are  the  more  regular  in  structure  and  are 
easier  to  examine,  because  their  base  is  wide- 
open  once  it  is  separated  from  the  supporting 
pebble;  and  it  was  these  which  supplied  me 
with  by  far  the  greater  part  of  my  informa- 
tion. Those  of  the  Mason-bee  of  the  Sheds 
have  to  be  chipped  away  with  a  hammer  be- 
fore one  can  inspect  their  cells,  which  are 
heaped  up  anyhow;  and  they  do  not  lend 
themselves  anything  like  so  well  to  delicate 
investigations,  as  they  suffer  both  from  the 
shock  and  the  ill-treatment. 

And  now  the  thing  is  done :  it  remains  cert- 
ain that  the  Leucospis'  laying  is  exposed  to 
very  exceptional  dangers.  She  can  entrust  the 
egg  to  sterile  cells,  without  provisions  fit  to 
use ;  she  can  establish  several  in  the  same  cell, 
though  this  cell  contains  nourishment  for  one 
only.  Whether  they  proceed  from  a  single 
individual  returning  several  times,  by  inad- 
vertence, to  the  same  place,  or  are  the  work 
of  different  individuals  unaware  of  the  pre- 
vious borings,  these  multiple  layings  are  very 
frequent,  almost  as  much  so  as  the  normal 
layings.  The  largest  which  I  have  noticed 
consisted  of  five  eggs,  but  we  have  no  au- 
thority for  looking  upon  this  number  as  an 
307 


The  Mason-bees 

outside  limit.  Who  could  say,  when  the  per- 
forators are  numerous,  to  what  lengths  this 
accumulation  can  go?  I  will  set  forth  on 
some  future  occasion  how  the  ration  of  one 
egg  remains  in  reality  the  ration  of  one  egg, 
despite  the  multiplicity  of  banqueters. 

I  will  end  by  describing  the  egg,  which  is 
a  white,  opaque  object,  shaped  like  a  much- 
elongated  oval.  One  of  the  ends  is  length- 
ened out  into  a  neck  or  pedicle,  which  is  as 
long  as  the  egg  proper.  This  neck  is  some- 
what wrinkled,  sinuous  and  as  a  rule  consi- 
derably curved.  The  whole  thing  is  not  at  all 
unlike  certain  gourds  with  an  elongated 
paunch  and  a  snake-like  neck.  The  total 
length,  pedicle  and  all,  is  about  3  millimetres.1 
It  is  needless  to  say,  after  recognizing  the 
grub's  manner  of  feeding,  that  this  egg  is  not 
laid  inside  the  fostering  larva.  Yet,  before 
I  knew  the  habits  of  the  Leucospis,  I  would 
readily  have  believed  that  every  Hymenop- 
teron  armed  with  a  long  probe  inserts  her 
eggs  into  the  victim's  sides,  as  the  Ichneu- 
mon-flies do  to  the  Caterpillars.  I  mention 
this  for  the  benefit  of  any  who  may  be  under 
the  same  erroneous  impression. 

iAbout  .117  inch.— Translator's  Note. 
308 


The  Leucospes 

The  Leucospis'  egg  is  not  even  laid  on  the 
Mason-bee's  larva ;  it  is  hung  by  its  bent  pedi- 
cle to  the  fibrous  wall  of  the  cocoon.  When 
I  go  to  work  very  delicately,  so  as  not  to  dis- 
turb the  arrangement  in  knocking  the  nest  off 
its  support,  and  then  take  out  and  open  the 
cocoon,  I  see  the  egg  swinging  from  the  silken 
vault.  But  it  takes  very  little  to  make  it  fall. 
And  so,  most  often,  even  though  it  be  merely 
the  effect  of  the  shock  sustained  when  the 
nest  is  removed  from  its  pebble,  I  find  the  egg 
detached  from  its  suspension-point  and  lying 
beside  the  larva,  to  which  it  never  adheres  in 
any  circumstances.  The  Leucospis'  probe 
does  not  penetrate  beyond  the  cocoon  tra- 
versed; and  the  egg  remains  fastened  to  the 
ceiling,  in  the  crook  of  some  silky  thread,  by 
means  of  its  hooked  pedicle. 


309 


INDEX 


Amazon  Ant  (see  Red 
Ant) 

Ammophila,    213,    279 

Ammophila  hirsuta  (see 
Hairy  Ammophila) 

Ant  (see  also  Black  Ant, 
Red  Ant),  vii,  58, 
133  n,  152,  160,  192 

Anthidium  (see  also  Cot- 
ton-bee, Diadem  An- 
thidium), 219,  226,  274 

Anthophora  (see  also 
Hairy-footed  Antho- 
phora), 18,  83,  194, 
206-207,  211,  216 

Anthrax  (see  also  An- 
thrax sinuata),  199, 
210,  212,  264,  274,  276, 
279-281,  303 

Anthrax  sinuata,  275 

Anthrenus,  271 

Ape,  220 

Aphis,  160 

B 

Baboon,  290 
Bastien,  4-5 
Bee,  passim 
Bembex  (see  also  Bembex 

rostrata),  59,  198,  205- 

207,  210,  279 

Bembex  rostrata,  194-195 
Black  Ant,  134-135,  *39 


Blanchard,  Emile,  8 
Blue  Osmia,  267 
Bombylius,  196-199 
Bumble-bee,  205,  219 
Butterfly,  9  n 


Cabbage  -  caterpillar,  200, 
202 

Cagliostro,  127 

Carrier-pigeon,  40,  74,  102, 
124-125,  127 

Castelnau  de  la  Porte, 
Francis  Comte  de,  9 

Cat,  vii,  76,  88,  109-123, 
126-127 

Caterpillar  (see  also  Cab- 
bage-caterpillar, Grey 
Worm,  Processionary 
Caterpillar,  Spurge- 
caterpillar),  190,  195- 
196,  308 

Cerceris  (see  also  Great 
Cerceris),  41,  51,  198, 
212 

Cerceris  tuberculata  (see 
Great  Cerceris) 

Cetonia,  213 

Chalcis,  274,  275-276 

Chalicodoma  (see  Mason- 
bee) 

Chalicodoma  muraria  (see 
Mason-bee  of  the 
Walls) 


311 


Index 


Chalicodoma  pyrenaica,  C. 
pyrrhopeza,  C.  rufitar- 
sis,  C.  sicula  (see 
Mason-bee  of  the 
Sheds) 

Chalicodoma  rufescens 
(see  Mason-bee  of  the 
Shrubs) 

Chat,  203 

Chrysis  (see  also  Parno- 
pes  carnea,  Stilbum 
calens),  193-196,  203- 
206,  210-213 

Clerus,  207,  280 

Coelyoxis,  219,  222 

Common  Lizard,  201-202 

Common  Wasp,  161-163 

Cornelius  Nepos,  2 

Cotton-bee,  vii 

Cricket,  70 

Crioceris,  208 

Crocisa,  199,  205,  213 

D 

Darwin,  Charles  Robert, 
73-75,  76-77,  88,  95, 
102-104,  109,  123,  127 

Darwin,  Erasmus,  161-163 

Diadem  Anthidium,  294 

Dioxys,  207,  255,  256-257, 
259-262,  274,  275 

Dioxys  cincta  (see 
Dioxys) 

Dog,  94,  108,  289 

Dufour,  Jean  Marie  Leon, 
10 

Duhamel  du  Monceau, 
Henri  Louis,  32,  40 

Duruy,  Jean  Victor,  112 


E 

Euclid,   3 

Eumenes,  Amadei,  196-197 
Eyed  Lizard,  201 


Fabre,  Mile.  Aglae,  the 
author's  daughter,  49, 
52,  118-119 

Fabre,  Mile.  Antonia,  the 
author's  daughter,  92- 
94 

Fabre,  Mile.  Claire,  the 
author's  daughter,  119 

Fabre,  Mile.  Lucie,  the  au- 
thor's granddaughter, 
139-140,  142 

Favier,  the  author's  fac- 
totum, 76-77,  80,  101, 
303 

Fly,  31,  161-163,  190,  196- 
199 

Franklin,   Benjamin,   248 


Gad-fly,  195,  198,  206,  210- 

211 

Gnat,   179 

Golden  Wasp  (see  Chry- 
sis) 

Gold-fish,  122,  136 

Grasshopper  (see  Green 
Grasshopper) 

Great  Cerceris,  130,  132 

Green  Grasshopper,  203, 
208 

Grey  Lizard,  204 

Grey  Worm,  129,  157 


312 


Index 


H 

Hairy     Ammophila,      129, 

.  IS7,  298 
Hairy-footed  Anthophora, 

268 

Halictus,  vii,  19 
Hive-bee,  43,  206 
Huber,  Francois,  10 

I 
Ichneumon-fly,  133  n,  308 


Lacordaire,  Jean  Theo- 
dore, 162  n 

Lamb,  216 

Lark,  200,  201 

Latreille's  Osmia,  132,  165, 
268 

Leaf-cutter  {see  Mega- 
chile) 

Leucospis,  209-210,  212,264, 
277-309 

Leucospis  dorsigera,  294 

Leucospis  gigas  (see  Leu- 
cospis) 

Le  Vaillant,  Francois,  80- 
81 

Lion,  199 

Lizard  (see  Common  Liz- 
ard, Eyed  Lizard, 
Green  Lizard) 

Locust,  IQO,  198,  204,  208 

Loriol,   Dr.,    114-115 

Loriol,  Mme.,  115 

Lucas,  Pierre  Hippolyte,  9 

M 

Macmillan  &  Co.,  Ltd.,  vii- 
viii 


Mademoiselle  Mori,  au- 
thor of,  vii,  31  n 

Mantis  (see  Praying  Man- 
tis) 

Martin,  40 

Mason-bee  (see  also  the 
varieties  below),  pas- 
sim 

Mason-bee  of  the  Pebbles 
(see  Mason-bee  of  the 
Walls) 

Mason-bee  of  the  Sheds, 
11-17,  26-29,  48-55,  75- 
108,  126-132,  165-167, 
169-189,  214-215,  228- 
239,  252,  257-262,  268- 
273,  275,  288,  290-291, 
294-305,  307 

Mason-bee  of  the  Shrubs, 
79  n,  273-275 

Mason-bee  of  the  Walls, 
i,  8,  10-13,  17-28,  30- 
48,  52,  56-72,  86,  132, 
209,  223-226,  250-268, 
276-284,  288,  302-307, 
309 

Megachile,  vii,  219,  222, 
266-268,  274,  279 

Megachile  apicalis  (see 
Megachile) 

Melecta,  194,  199,  205,  211, 
213,  216 

Meloe  (see  Oil-beetle) 

Mesmer,  127 

Miall,  Bernard,  204  n 

Monodontomerus  cupreus, 
264  n 

Morawitz"  Osmia,  267 

Moth.  9  n 

Mutilla.  192-193,  210-213, 
248 


313 


Index 


N 

Napoleon     III,    the    Em- 
peror, 112  n 
Newton,  Sir  Isaac,  73,  158 

O 

Oil-beetle,  213 
Oryctes,  213 

Osmia  (see  also  the  varie- 
ties  below),   vii,   206, 

256,  259,  261,  268-270, 

274,  279 
Osmia    cyanea    (see   Blue 

Osmia) 
Osmia    cyanoxantha,   266- 

267 
Osmia  Latreillii   (see  La- 

treille's  Osmia) 
Osmia      Morawitzi      (see 

Morawitz'  Osmia) 
Osmia       tricornis        (see 

Three-horned  Osmia) 
Osmia      tridentata       (see 

Three-pronged      O  s  - 

mia) 
Ox,  80 

P 
Parnopes  cornea,  194-195, 

206 

Perez,  Professor  Jean,  79n 
Philanthus   apivorus,    198, 

205 
Polyergus  rufescens    (see 

Red  Ant) 

Pompilus,   151-157,  273 
Praying  Mantis,  190.  204 
Processionary    Caterpillar, 

137-138 

Psithyrus,  205,  219 
Ptinus,   271 


Rabbit,  213 

Reaumur,    Rene    Antoine 

Ferchault  de,  i,  8,  10- 

12,  31-32,  37,  39-40,  49 
Red  Ant,  vii,  124-157 
Republican      (see     Social 

Weaver-bird) 
Resin-bee,  vii 
Rhinoceros-beetle       (  s  e  e 

Oryctes) 
Ringed     Calicurgus     (see 

Pompilus) 
Rodwell,     Miss     Frances, 

viii 
Rose-chafer  (see  Cetonia) 


Sacred  Beetle,  31 

Sapyga  punctata  (see 
Spotted  Sapyga) 

Saw-fly,  133  n 

Scolia,  193,  211-212,  248, 
279 

Sheep,  248 

Sicilian  Mason-bee  (see 
Mason-bee  of  the 
Sheds) 

Social  Bee  (see  Hive- 
bee) 

Social  Wasp  (see  Com- 
mon Wasp) 

Social  Weaver-bird,  80 

Sphex  (see  also  Yellow- 
winged  Sphex),  31, 
162  n,  212 

Spider,  9  n,  152-157,  190, 
273 

Spotted  Sapyga,  248,  259, 
261 


314 


Index 


Spurge-caterpillar,  202 
Stelis  (see  also  Stelis  na- 

suta),  219,  274,  276 
Stelis  nasuta,  223-228,  238, 

255-256 

Stilbum  calens,  195-196 
Swallow,  40,  124,  127,  203 
Swift,  203 


Tachina,  198,  204-205,  210- 
211,  213 

Tachytes,    198 

Teixeira  de  Mattos,  Alex- 
ander, 6  n,  10  n,  31  n, 
264  n 

Three-horned  Osmia,  132, 
165,  239-248,  268,  276 

Three-pronged  Osmia, 
245-248 

Tiger,   199,  204 

Tripoxylon,  273 


Toussenel,  Alphonse,  124- 
125 

Turnip-caterpillar,  Turnip- 
moth  ( see  Grey 
Worm) 

W 

Wagtail  (see  White  Wag- 
tail) 

Warted  Cerceris  (see 
Great  Cerceris) 

Wasp  (see  also  Common 
Wasp),  79  n,  132-133, 
152-156,  1 68,  190,  209, 
222 

Weevil,  130,  100,  108 

White  Wagtail,  201 

Wild  Boar,  213 

Wolf,  245,  248 


Yellow-winged  Sphex,  70 


315 


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X-AD3?  TH'-TBP 


•^601560    7      _ 


